NEW -YORK 


WILSON-BARRETT 
ficELWYN  •  BAR  RON 


IN   OLD   NEW  YORK. 


"  WALLACE  .  .  .  TOOK    ADVANTAGE  OF  JACOB'S    DISTRACTED 
ATTENTION   TO    MAKE   A    SAVAGE    THRUST." 

(See  page  404.) 


IN   OLD  NEW  YORK 


Romance 


BY 

WILSON    BARRETT 

AND 

ELWYN  BARRON 


lUusttatrti  bg 
H.  C.   EDWARDS 


BOSTON 
L.  C.   PAGE  AND   COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
1900 


Copyright,  1899 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


Colonial  13rfss : 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


IN   OLD   NEW   YORK. 


CHAPTER   I. 

"A  PRETTY  assemblage,  Mr.  Boylston." 

"  As  pretty,  your  Excellency,  as  I  have  seen  in 
New  York." 

"  I  hope  the  occasion  may  prove  worthy  of  it. 
Have  you  made  a  choice,  Miss  Sophia  ? "  inclining 
his  head  toward  the  young  lady  who  sat  in  the  farther 
corner  of  the  carriage. 

"  I  am  between  the  two  horns  of  a  dilemma,  your 
Excellency,"  Miss  Boylston  answered,  laughingly. 
"  My  sympathies  run  with  the  Virginian ;  but  I  con- 
fess my  judgment  leans  toward  the  English  horse. 
So  you  see  I  am  at  contraries  whether  to  risk  my 
judgment  or  my  sentiments,  for  I  should  be  vastly 
sorry  to  find  either  amiss." 

"  Then  back  your  sentiments,"  the  Governor  urged 
in  good  humour,  "  for  'tis  a  common  experience  that 
a  young  lady's  most  trustworthy  guide  is  her  heart." 


2062251 


12  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"My  daughter  is  not  of  that  opinion,  I  promise 
you.  She  prides  herself  in  a  mind  — 

"La,  papa,"  interrupted  Miss  Boylston,  "you  must 
not  expose  my  pretensions  to  the  ridicule  of  his 
Excellency." 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Boylston,  but  you  can  make  no 
pretensions  that  I  am  not  ready  to  allow  with  addi- 
tions. But  what  is  your  reason 'for  preferring  the 
Virginian  ?  " 

"None  you  will  think  substantial." 

"  Gad,  no,  your  Excellency,  for  I  must  tell  you  that 
Sophy  has  come  back  from  her  winter  in  Boston 
with  some  ill-fitting  notions  of  colonial  dignity  that 
she  airs  with  prodigious  impudence." 

"  Humph ! "  said  the  Governor,  looking  in  an 
amused  way  at  Miss  Boylston,  "  if  'tis  on  that  ground 
that  you  incline  to  the  Virginian,  I  must  change  my 
advice  and  bid  you  back  your  judgment  against  your 
sentiments.  'Twere  a  pity  if  so  much  beauty  and 
grace  were  thrown  into  the  wrong  basin  of  the  bal- 
ance. Let  us  leave  sedition  to  the  vulgar." 

"La,  your  Excellency,  I  hope  'tis  no  sedition  to 
wish  that  a  home-bred  horse  may  win  against  a  for- 
eign product  ? " 

"  Indeed,  no,  dear  Miss  Boylston ;  but  an  English 
horse  is  home-bred." 

"  I  think,  Sophy,  his  Excellency  tripped  you  up 
there," 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  13 

"Then,  in  the  sheer  obstinacy  of  a  revengeful 
spirit,  I  shall  throw  my  fortune  with  the  Vir- 
ginian." 

"  If  you  win  — ,"  the  Governor  began,  hesitatingly, 
as  he  cast  about  in  his  mind  for  a  suitable  penalty. 

"  You  shall  lead  me  out  for  the  first  dance  at  the 
next  Fort  ball,"  Miss  Boylston  suggested,  saucily. 

"  Agreed.  I  can  think  of  no  better  way  to  punish 
you,  for  they  say  I  dance  atrociously." 

The  Governor  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  with  a 
flourish,  riding  off  to  exchange  civilities  with  the 
de  Lancy's,  whose  carriage  had  just  entered  the 
enclosure. 

This  being  the  first  considerable  race  of  the  mid- 
June  season,  the  world  of  fashion,  not  less  than  the 
crowd  on  the  lower  planes  of  sensibility,  hastened  to 
take  joy  of  the  occasion.  The  picturesque  Church 
Farm  course  —  idealised  by  the  near  flow  of  the 
majestic  Hudson  and  the  friendly  green  of  approach- 
ing trees  —  was  thronged  by  a  shifting  motley  of 
brilliance  and  commonplace.  Ladies  in  a  finery  of 
toilet  suited  to  the  elegances  of  an  indoor  reception, 
gentlemen  in  the  smart  attire  of  a  dress  parade,  set 
their  showiness  in  animating  contrast  to  the  curiously 
varied  garb  of  plainer  and  poorer  folk,  from  the  prim 
dignity  of  the  merchant's  sobriety  to  the  uncouth 
garment  of  the  farmer  from  over  the  river.  Here 
and  there  the  leather  and  fringed  suit  of  a  fur-hunter 


I4  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

or  an  Indian  fighter  matched  merit  with  the  dashing 
uniform  of  some  of  his  Majesty's  officers  or  plain 
soldiers.  Memories  and  traditions  of  the  Dutch 
combated  the  dominant  pretensions  of  English  fash- 
ions, there  being  sabots  and  caps  to  match  with 
French  high  heels  and  wide-brimmed,  lace-decorated 
hats  ;  heavy,  straight  petticoats  and  stiff -laced  bodices 
to  rebuke  the  ample  skirts  and  low  corsages  of  the 
London  mode.  The  democracy  of  pleasure  was 
shown,  too,  in  the  vehicular  array  as  well  as  in 
the  trappings  of  the  saddled  cattle.  Against  the 
imported  carriage  of  the  Governor  and  two  or  three 
families  of  the  gentry  were  set  the  chaise  and  the 
cabriolet  in  all  degrees  and  grades  of  being  from 
smartness  to  dilapidation  ;  nor  was  the  ox-cart  want- 
ing to  lend  a  serious  importance  to  the  scene  of 
interest.  Booths  and  games  of  the  catchpenny 
order,  hawkers  of  fruit  and  buns,  tumblers  and 
mountebanks,  gave  token  of  the  imitative  spirit  with 
which  the  colonists  declared  their  origin,  —  for  the 
English  in  New  York  were  of  a  mind  to  reproduce 
the  conditions  and  characteristics  of  sports  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  sea,  and  fancied  they  were  within 
the  range  of  favourable  comparison.  Mr.  Zenger,  in 
the  glowing  account  furnished  to  his  Weekly  Journal, 
notwithstanding  his  republican  predilections,  left  no 
doubt  in  the  reader's  mind  of  the  entire  success  of 
the  imitation. 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  15 

Though  any  sort  of  race  was  an  enchantment  to 
the  wager-loving  New  Yorkers,  whose  ardour  for  bet- 
ting overleaped  all  bounds  of  discretion,  the  contest 
to  witness  which  all  the  town  had  come  forth  to-day, 
was  exceptionally  inspiring  in  the  fact  that  an  Eng- 
lish thoroughbred,  got  over  the  sea  with  much 
anxiety,  was  to  contest  the  honours  and  the  purse 
with  a  Virginian-born  stallion,  brought  to  redoubt- 
able horse-hood  on  the  island.  Partisan  spirit  ran 
the  higher  for  the  reason  that  there  was  just  then  no 
small  amount  of  guarded  friction  between  the  vigor- 
ous Tory  and  the  nascent  Whig  elements;  and, 
though  the  former  affected  a  thorough  detestation 
of  the  seditious  faction,  as  it  was  styled,  no  opportu- 
nity was  missed  to  prove  its  superiority.  This  race 
was  an  uncommon  chance,  and  the  young  bloods  of 
the  royalist  holding  were  prodigal  of  their  money, 
and,  flashing  it  to  right  and  left,  gave  odds  with  such 
reckless  confidence  that  the  English  horse  very  early 
became  the  favourite  of  society  in  the  drawing-rooms 
no  less  than  of  society  in  the  taverns. 

The  adherents  of  the  Virginian  stallion  moderated 
their  wager-taking  fervour  without  faltering  in  their 
allegiance,  when  they  learned  from  recent  arrivals 
from  England  something  more  of  the  invader's  repu- 
tation than  they  had  known.  One  of  these  new- 
comers was  Wallace  Waring,  just  graduated  from 
Oxford,  and  come  to  rejoin  his  father,  Mr.  Stephen 


1 6  IN  OLD   NEW  YORK. 

Waring,  a  retired  barrister  of  some  fortune,  whom 
ill  health  had  driven  from  England  ten  years  before. 
Young  Waring  had  seen 'the  English  racer  do  some 
notable  work  on  his  native  turf,  and  expanded  the 
story  of  the  exploit  in  a  way  to  give  that  incentive 
to  inclination  which  results  in  enthusiasm.  It  is  an 
ancient  observation  that  prophets,  even  those  of  the 
equine  order,  suffer  a  diminution  of  credit  among 
their  familiars  when  they  are  brought  into  question 
by  an  Unknown  of  whom  wondrous  things  are 
spoken.  The  Virginian  horse,  unfortunately,  had 
been  raised  and  trained  right  there  on  the  island, 
and,  though  there  was  among  the  town-folk  great 
esteem  of  his  merits,  he  certainly  lacked  the 
commanding  distinction  of  an  animal  that  had 
done  great  things  on  a  famous  track  and  against 
formidable  rivals.  Perhaps  the  only  person  who 
never  for  a  moment  wavered  from  his  faith  was  the 
sturdy  owner  of  the  stallion,  young  Jacob  Wilbruch, 
a  well-to-do  Anglo-Dutchman,  who  combined  some- 
thing of  the  farmer  with  the  merchant,  and  was  more 
student  than  sportsman.  Cautious  and  sagacious 
Evert  Vanbergen,  who  had  been  the  guardian  of 
Jacob's  youth  and  young  manhood,  and  was  much 
averse  to  having  his  training  brought  under  the  pop- 
ular reproach,  had  come  with  sage  counsel  to  Jacob's 
place  one  morning. 

v  I  have  seen  t'at  Enklish  horse,  Jacob." 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  \J 

"So  have  I,  Mr.  Vanbergen." 

"  He  is  a  good  horse,  Jacob." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  that." 

"  Fetter  not  pet  against  him." 

"  I  have  already  wagered  all  I  can  afford." 

"You  will  lose  your  moneys,  Jacob." 

"I  don't  think  so,  Mr.  Vanbergen." 

"Vill  I  put  some  moneys  privately  on  t'e  ot'er 
horse  for  you?" 

"  No ;  I  have  confidence  in  Black  Dan." 

"  Ton't  pe  a  fool,  Jacob  !  " 

"  I  won't.  But  don't  bet  against  Black  Dan,  Mr. 
Vanbergen." 

"  Jacob !  Jacob  !  I  ton't  like  to  see  you  lose  your 
moneys." 

"I  am  not  going  to  lose  it." 

"  Oh,  ja,  t'at's  your  vay !  You  vas  always  hard- 
nekkiglijk,"  and  the  old  merchant  turned  away,  in 
irritated  pity  of  Jacob's  obstinacy. 

And  this  afternoon,  with  the  race'  about  to  come 
off,  Jacob  found  most  people  in  Mr.  Vanbergen's 
way  of  thinking.  Favour  seemed  to  have  gone  over 
bodily  to  the  "foreigner,"  and  only  the  unconquer- 
able passion  for  gambling  on  a  hazard  which  charac- 
terised the  times  kept  Black  Dan  in  countenance. 
But  Jacob  cared  not  a  whit  for  that.  He  had  slapped 
the  broad,  deep  chest  of  the  stallion,  smoothed  down 
the  powerful  shoulders,  patted  the  wide  nostrils,  and 


1 8  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

looked  into  the  fire-lighted  eyes,  very  well  satisfied 
with  the  inspection. 

"  The  other  fellow  has  more  speed  than  you  have, 
Dan  ;  but  he  hasn't  got  your  chest  and  muscles.  You 
and  I  know  what  four-mile  heats  will  mean."  And 
Black  Dan  had  whinnied  something  which  Jacob 
seemed  to  understand. 

Before  the  chief  event  could  come  on  there  were 
to  be  a  half-dozen  of  those  wild  and  thundering 
"quarter  dashes"  in  which  the  common  people 
found  a  mighty  delight.  These  dashes  were  always 
between  two  horses  running  on  parallel  paths  ;  and 
though  everything  depended  on  the  volt  at  the  start, 
and  nothing  was  due  to  skill  of  horsemanship,  the 
fury  of  the  rush  was  a  mad  excitement  to  the  game- 
sters, and  in  the  few  seconds  between  start  and 
finish  extravagant  sums  changed  hands.  After  the 
last  of  these  had  got  the  assembly  into  the  proper 
frame  of  mind  to  appreciate  the  vital  incident  of  the 
day,  the  eight  horses  entered  for  the  great  race  were 
led  out  from  the  paddock,  amid  the  cheers  of  the 
multitude.  There  was  a  hurrying  of  eager  game- 
sters to  take  stock  of  the  cattle,  though  little  atten- 
tion was  given  to  any  but  the  fine  bay  gelding  and 
the  superb  black  stallion  generally  designated  as  the 
real  competitors  for  first  place. 

Black  Dan's  mount  was  a  negro  lad  as  black  as 
himself,  a  perfect  accord  apparently  existing  between 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  1 9 

the  two.  Jacob  gave  the  boy  one  final  word  of 
instruction. 

"  Don't  strain  to  take  the  first  heat,  Jim.  Second 
place  will  do." 

"Yas,  Marse  Jake." 

"  Your  freedom,  if  you  win,  Jim." 

"  Yas,  Marse  Jake." 

While  the  horses  were  cantering  and  caracoling  up 
the  track  preparing  for  the  start,  Jacob  Wilbruch 
crossed  the  turf  to  the  private  stand,  as  if  in  no  wise 
concerned  in  the  results  of  the  race.  He  exchanged 
telegraphic  signs,  however,  with  a  young  lady  of  a 
distinctive  beauty  but  in  less  fashionable  attire  than 
those  about  her,  whose  face  gave  every  token  of  an 
apprehensive  excitement.  Jacob's  nod  was  one  of 
reassurance,  for  she  smiled  in  contented  way  and 
turned  to  whisper  to  the  old  merchant  sitting  beside 
her: 

"Jacob  feels  sure,  papa." 

"Oh,  ja,"  said  Mr.  Vanbergen,  a  little  gruffly, 
"Jacob  always  feels  t'at  vay." 

"Well,  I  feel  sure,  too,  papa." 

"T'at  ton't  matter.  You  are  not  going  to  lose 
some  moneys  py  your  feelings." 

"That  may  be,  but  I'm  going  to  risk  some  on 
them ! " 

" Luya ! " 

Mr.  Vanbergen  looked  at  his  daughter  with  a  sur- 


20  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

prise  as  great  as  his  displeasure,  there  being  nothing 
he  held  more  in  abhorrence  than  bad  judgment  in 
money  affairs,  and  nothing  that  could  more  confound 
him  than  such  bad  judgment  in  his  daughter.  But 
Miss  Luya  Vanbergen  had  been  too  long  accustomed 
to  rule  her  father  to  take  note  of  his  disapprobation 
of  her  opinions,  and  she  was  already  well  down  the 
steps  toward  the  grass-plot  before  Mr.  Vanbergen 
was  enough  recovered  to  understand  her  intention. 
She  was  going  in  quest  of  some  friendly  victim. 

Meantime,  Lieutenant  Willett,  one  of  the  most 
gracefully  dissipated  of  his  Majesty's  young  officers, 
and  Mr.  Philip  Ashton  had  sauntered  up  to  Wilbruch 
with  the  easy  air  of  gentlemen  who  feel  a  genial 
tolerance  of  the  follies  of  an  inferior  intelligence. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wilbruch,"  Lieutenant  Willett  began, 
with  a  smile,  "  are  you  still  advising  your  friends  to 
lay  their  money  on  Black  Dan  ?  " 

"  I  have  advised  no  one  to  lay  his  money  on  Black 
Dan,  lieutenant,"  Jacob  answered,  good-naturedly. 

"  How  about  you  own  money  ? "  Ashton  asked. 
"  Does  it  support  your  preference  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  have  thought  wise,  Mr.  Ashton." 

"Gad,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,  for  I  have 
still  a  few  guineas  I  should  love  to  set  to  breeding. 
Come,  a  simple  fifty  ? " 

"You  might  oblige  him  to  that ^  extent,"  the 
lieutenant  urged,  as  Jacob  shook  his  head. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  21 

"  I  run  my  horse  for  his  own  credit  and  for  some 
little  pride  of  my  own,  lieutenant,  and  not  to  fill  my 
purse  by  emptying  those  of  my  neighbours." 

"  Gad,  lieutenant,  Mr.  Wilbruch  is  a  moralist  of 
economies.  'Tis  a  saving  sort  of  virtue.  Then  you 
will  not  lay  me  fifty  on  your  horse  ? " 

"  I  think  not,  Mr.  Ashton." 

"But  I  will,  Mr.  Ashton,"  said  Miss  Vanbergen, 
coming  up  at  the  moment.  "  And,  that  you  may  not 
feel  slighted,  lieutenant,  I'll  be  as  accommodating 
in  your  interest." 

Both  gentlemen  bowed  in  a  deprecating  way. 

"I  am  sure,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "that  Mr. 
Ashton  no  more  than  I  can  have  a  wish  to  rob  Miss 
Vanbergen." 

"  But  if  you  care  to  be  rid  of  your  purse  —  " 

"La,  Mr.  Ashton,"  cried  Miss  Vanbergen,  inter- 
rupting the  gentleman  addressed,  "  I  shall  have  the 
greatest  need  of  my  purse  to  hold  what  I  shall  win 
from  you  both,  if  you  have  the  courage  to  venture." 

"  Faith,  I  haven't  the  courage,  Miss  Vanbergen," 
the  lieutenant  laughed. 

"  Nor  I,"  echoed  Mr.  Ashton,  in  equal  good 
humour.  "But  if  you  really  seek  a  wager,  as  I 
was  going  to  say,  you  have  but  to  offer  yourself 
to  Miss  Boylston,  who  is  so  eager  in  the  matter  as 
to  be  out  o^  temper  because  none  of  her  friends  will 
oppose  her." 


22  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  And  she  is  ready  to  give  the  handsomest  odds," 
the  lieutenant  added. 

"  I  applaud  the  way  you  turn  me  off,  gentlemen ; 
but  I  am  the  better  pleased  to  have  you  scorn  my 
wager  for  the  reason  that  I  much  prefer  to  place 
my  savings  with  Miss  Boylston.  I  thank  you  for 
letting  me  know  her  inclination.  But  take  my  advice, 
put  your  money  on  Black  Dan.  That  is  the  best 
way  to  keep  it.  Jacob,  give  me  your  arm  to  Miss 
Boylston's  carriage.  Let  us  see,  gentlemen,  who 
shall  be  readiest  of  us  to  put  something  into  the 
contribution -box  next  Sunday." 

Miss  Vanbergen  made  a  half-curtsey  as  she  took 
Wilbruch's  arm  and  moved  away,  throwing  back  at 
the  two  young  gentlemen  such  a  smile  of  malicious 
good  humour  as  made  them  aware  that  there  was 
nothing  on  the  island  more  provokingly  pretty 
than  Luya  Vanbergen's  face,  in  which  young  love- 
liness and  keen  intelligence  had  established  a 
compromise. 

"  Who  the  deuce  is  she  ? "  eagerly  asked  Wallace 
Waring,  joining  the  lieutenant  and  Ashton  as  Luya 
retired  with  Wilbruch.  "  That  is  one  of  your  towns- 
women,  Ashton,  you  must  have  kept  hidden  from 
me,  and  I  shall  hold  a  spite  against  you  for  it !  Who 
is  she  ?  What's  her  name  ?  Eh  ? " 

Ashton  laughed. 

"Have   you   been   'shot   through   with    a  pretty 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  2$ 

wench's  blue  eye,'  my  dear  Waring  ?  The  blue  eye 
of  a  trader's  daughter,  into  the  bargain  ? " 

"  Make  no  jests  about  it !  Upon  my  word,  'tis  the 
first  sight  since  I  arrived  in  your  cursed  wilderness 
that  has  reconciled  me  to  my  expatriation.  Tell 
me,  lieutenant,  who  she  is !  "  Waring  betrayed  an 
impatience  which  the  lieutenant  smilingly  received. 

"  Miss  Luya  Vanbergen,  daughter  of  one  of  the 
rich  Dutchmen  who  seem  to  be.  able  to  teach  our 
English  merchants  something  in  the  way  of  trade. 
Have  you  a  mind  to  negotiate  ?  " 

"  If  so,  you  will  have  to  take  account  of  the  stout 
fellow  beside  her  there,  for  I  think  Mr.  Wilbruch  has 
bespoke  the  merchandise." 

"  Which  of  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  introduce 
me  ?  "  Waring  demanded.  "  I  shall  have  a  fever  till 
I  know  the  lady." 

"Then  I'll  be  your  physician,"  Ashton  said,  link- 
ing his  arm  into  Waring's.  "  But  I  can  tell  you,  and 
the  lieutenant  here  will  certify  the  fact,  that  more 
than  one  of  us  have  vainly  undertaken  to  play 
Lothario  in  this  direction  — 

"  Hang  it,  Ashton  !  "  Waring  exclaimed,  warmly 
and  with  a  look  of  genuine  indignation,  "  I  shall  take 
a  second  allusion  of  the  sort  as  an  affront ;  and,  by 
your  leave,  I  shall  find  another  means  to  the  lady's 
acquaintance." 

Waring  released  his  arm  from  that  of  Mr.  Ashton, 


24  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

lifted  his  hat  with  perhaps  too  stern  a  touch  of  trag- 
ical seriousness  in  his  manner  and  walked  away  in 
dignified  contempt  of  the  pacificatory  protests  of  the 
young  gentlemen. 

"  A  pretty  temper,  that !  "  said  the  lieutenant. 

"A  pepper-pod,  egad!  "  assented  Mr.  Ashton. 

"  If  he  were  not  such  a  gay  devil  of  a  rake  over  a 
bottle  and  the  card-table,  I  should  think  him  the 
damnable  pattern  of  a  prig." 

"  He's  none  of  that.  But  you  may  stab  me  to  the 
heart  with  a  herring-bone  if  he  hasn't  plunged  mad 
into  love  with  the  first  sight  of  the  Dutchman's 
daughter." 

"  Then  heaven  send  him  some  good  of  her !  Egad  ! 
they're  off ! " 

The  shout  of  the  people  had  attracted  the  lieuten- 
ant's attention,  and  he  looked  toward  the  track  in 
time  to  see  the  eight  horses  charging  in  a  bunch  at 
full  speed ;  and  in  the  next  instant  they  had  passed 
in  a  flash  of  colours,  the  mass  thundering  by,  pretty 
well  together,  with  the  English  horse  on  the  inner 
curve  and  Black  Dan  on  the  outside,  quite  half  a 
length  to  the  rear. 

"A  good  start." 

"Yes,  we  have  the  advantage,"  Ashton  replied, 
with  an  approving  smile. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  horses,  being  in  motion,  became,  of  course, 
the  focus  of  every  interest.  Eyes  and  thoughts 
were  upon  the  dark  patch  circling  rapidly  against 
the  green  undulations  of  the  course,  a  roar  of  voices 
indicating  every  slight  change  in  the  relative  posi- 
tions of  the  striving  animals. 

Jacob  and  Miss  Vanbergen,  having  paused  to  wit- 
ness the  start,  had  not  yet  reached  Miss  Boylston's 
carriage  when  the  racers  swept  by  to  the  completion 
of  the  first  mile.  Black  Dan,  though  holding  the 
third  place,  was  quite  a  length  and  a  half  behind 
the  English  horse,  which  seemed  to  keep  the  lead 
with  ease.  A  great  shout  of  triumph  attested  the 
satisfaction  of  the  majority  of  the  spectators,  and 
Miss  Vanbergen  looked  with  anxious  inquiry  into  the 
impassive  face  of  her  escort. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Jacob  ? " 

"  I  think  Jim  is  giving  Black  Dan  too  much  head." 

"  Too  much  head  !    But  he  is  way  behind,  Jacob  !  " 

"  Not  far  enough  behind,  Luya." 

"  Not  far  enough  behind  ?     Why,  Jacob !     Do  you 
want  Black  Dan  to  lose  the  race  ? " 
25 


26  Iff  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  You  know  little  Jim  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  He  is  riding  for  his  freedom." 

"  Ah,  then  he  understands !  " 

"  Yes,  Jim  understands.  He  is  only  to  push  Dan 
in  the  last  heats." 

They  came  up  to  the  carriage  on  the  seat  of  which 
Miss  Boylston  was  standing,  a  brilliant  glow  of  ex- 
citement in  her  face  and  eyes,  and  a^gaiety  of  enthu- 
siasm in  her  speech.  Miss  Boylston  enjoyed  the 
distinction  of  being  the  belle  of  the  polite  world  of 
New  York,  and  Miss  Vanbergen,  whose  social  prog- 
ress had  brought  her  only  to  the  outer  rim  of  the 
charmed  circle,  thought  the  distinction  well  bestowed, 
and  looked  with  unconcealed  admiration  upon  the 
distinguished  young  lady. 

"What  a  pity  'tis,"  Miss  Boylston  was  saying, 
"that  I  am  allowed  only  a  spectator's  interest  in 
the  sport !  I  think  some  one  might  have  been 
gallant  enough  to  pretend  a  faith  in  the  black  horse ! 
La !  here  is  Mr.  Wilbruch.  Surely,  Mr.  Wilbruch, 
you  are  not  like  the  others!  You  will  venture  a 
trifle  on  your  own  horse  to  give  me  a  pleasure,  I 
warrant  me  !  Will  you  not  ?  " 

"We  have  come  with  that  object,"  Miss  Van- 
bergen answered  for  Jacob.  "We  heard  of  your 
disappointment,  and  mean  to  console  you.  I  will 
take  your  offer." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  2/ 

"  La,  Miss  Vanbergen  !  "  Miss  Boylston  cried,  af- 
fecting only  then  to  have  seen  the  young  lady.  "  How 
do  you  do  ?  I  did  not  suppose  you  had  a  mind  for 
hazards,  —  I  have  never  seen  you  at  the  tables.  But 
do  you  wager  on  conviction,  or  from  friendship  to 
Mr.  Wilbruch  ?  Though  it  can  matter  but  little 
to  which  sentiment  you  sacrifice,  —  I  am  ashamed 
to  take  advantage  of  your  devotion."  Miss  Boylston 
spoke  with  amiable  condescension. 

"  You  need  have  no  scruples,  Miss  Boylston,  to 
take  advantage  of  my  readiness  to  wager  on  Black 
Dan's  winning.  I  have  a  faith  nothing  wavering." 
Miss  Vanbergen's  vivacious  manner  gave  no  evidence 
that  she  felt  the  condescension  of  the  aristocratic 
young  lady  who  believed  that  persons  in  trade  had 
in  some  way  missed  the  divine  leavening. 

"  And  you  allow  her,  Mr.  Wilbruch  ? " 

"I  have  not  the  right  to  prevent  her,"  Jacob 
answered,  simply.  "  But  I  think  she  will  run  no  risk." 

"  Infatuation  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Boylston.  "  But 
look !  See  where  your  horse  is  now  !  " 

The  troop  charged  by  for  the  second  time  as  she 
pointed,  no  longer  in  a  bunch,  but  each  one  trailing 
more  and  more  behind  the  leader,  with  Black  Dan 
another  length  toward  the  rear.  One  would  have 
imagined  the  race  to  have  been  won,  so  mighty  was 
the  roar  of  exultation  as  the  beasts  went  straining 
by  the  stand. 


2g  iff  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"Are  you  still  for  a  wager,  Miss  Vanbergen?" 
cried  Miss  Boylston,  looking  down  at  the  couple. 
"Do  you  think,  now,  there  is  no  risk,  Mr.  Wil- 
bruch  ? " 

"  Fifty  guineas,  Miss  Boylston,  and  I  ask  no 
odds ! " 

Miss  Vanbergen  had  the  manner  of  one  throwing 
an  empire  into  the  scales  of  destiny.  Even  Jacob 
smiled,  and  Miss  Boylston,  laughingly,  but  with  the 
eager  pleasure  of  an  abandoned  gamester,  seized 
upon  the  reckless  advantage,  Mr.  Boylston,  who  had 
listened  in  amused  silence,  graciously  consenting  to 
hold  the  stakes. 

"You  are  not  as  shrewd  a  bargainer  as  your 
father,  I  fear,  Miss  Vanbergen,"  he  laughed,  as 
that  young  lady  thrust  her  crisp  bank-notes  into  his 
hand. 

"  You  will  find  that  I  am  a  Vanbergen,  after  all, 
Mr.  Boylston,"  she  answered,  gaily,  as  she  turned 
away  with  Jacob,  recognising  a  new  thrill  in  the  joy 
of  life  now  that  she  had  given  a  gage  to  fortune. 
This  was  her  first  wager,  and  she  revelled  in  a  sense 
of  heroic  doing.  Black  Dan  was  no  longer  a  mere 
horse,  under  the  spur  and  the  whip;  he  was  an 
embodied  idea,  self-consciously  moving  toward  a  goal 
imperatively  set  for  his  attainment.  Possibly,  too, 
Miss  Vanbergen  was  intuitively  aware  of  the  fact 
that  the  exhilarating  incident  was  the  beginning  of 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  2$ 

a  rivalry  which  should  have  to  do  with  stocks  not 
altogether  of  banking  value. 

Jacob  and  Miss  Vanbergen  were  standing  near  the 
paling  above  the  wicket  when  the  horses  came 
around  in  the  third  mile,  and  as  they  passed  Jacob 
called  out : 

"  Yes,  Jim." 

The  negro  boy  raised  his  whip  in  the  air,  making 
a  sign  that  he  had  heard  and  understood,  and  at  the 
heat's  end  Black  Dan  was  an  easy  second. 

This  little  manoeuvre  passed  unobserved  by  the 
crowd,  the  stallion's  advance  being  attributed,  not 
to  his  own  merits,  but  to  the  deficiencies  of  the 
third  horse  at  the  finish,  and  the  crowd,  swarming 
on  to  the  track,  pressed  around  the  English  horse 
with  that  idolatrous  ardour  which  muscular  success 
always  produces  in  the  vulgar  mind. 

Miss  Vanbergen,  left  alone  for  the  moment,  and 
thinking  with  Jacob  that  "  Dan  is  not  worrying," 
was  turning  toward  the  stand  with  the  dutiful  inten- 
tion to  rejoin  her  father,  when  a  handsome  young 
gentleman  in  the* elegance  of  fashion  stepped  before 
her  with  a  profound  bow,  at  the  same  time  giving 
the  jauntiest  possible  tilt  to  the  silver-hilt ed  sword 
hanging  at  his  side. 

"  I  beg  Miss  Vanbergen's  pardon." 

The  surprise  which  lifted  Miss  Vanbergen's  pretty 
eyebrows  discovered  the  more  clearly  to  her  pleased 


30  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

glance  the  natural  and  fashioned  allurements  of  the 
young  stranger,  and  her  mind  was  inclined  to  be 
lenient  with  such  well-appearing  impudence.  She 
paused,  indulgent. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Wallace  Waring,  at  your  service," 
raising  his  head  to  look  at  her,  but  with  his  body 
still  interrogatively  inclined,  and  his  hat  held  defer- 
entially before  him. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Stephen  Waring' s  son,  no  doubt  ?  I 
had  heard  of  your  expected  arrival." 

She  showed  no  disposition  to  move  on,  and  he 
thought  there  was  a  sort  of  parlant  privilege  in  her 
smile. 

"  I  should  have  waited  to  have  some  one  commend 
me  to  your  favour;  but,  if  you  will  accept  of  my 
self-introduction,  you  shall  have  my  certificates  of 
character  when  I  can  find  them." 

"  I  think  we  must  have  common  acquaintances, 
Mr.  Waring.  It  should  not  be  so  difficult  to  find 
your  certificates.  Were  there  none  convenient  ? " 
She  gave  a  mischievous  glance  and  nod  toward  the 
throng  of  gay  people  moving  to  and  fro  about  them. 

"  I  was  seeking  my  father  when  I  came  upon  you. 
As  your  father  and  mine  seem  to  have  business 
interests  in  common  —  " 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,"  Miss  Vanbergen  answered, 
making  a  moue  of  comical  misprise,  "you  are  quite 
in  the  way  to  begin  by  slipping  into  a  mistake." 


TN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  31 

"  May  I  ask  how  ?  " 

"  You  should  know  better  than  I  that  your  father 
would  not  thank  you  for  hinting  that  he  has  anything 
to  do  with  trade." 

This  was  a  challenge  to  prejudice  which  the  young 
gentleman  chose  to  regard  as  a  symptom  of  friendli- 
ness. He  put  on  his  hat,  smiled  in  a  way  to  declare 
a  spirit  superior  to  paternal  foibles,  and  said,  as  he 
offered  Miss  Vanbergen  his  arm  : 

"  Since  we  are  come  so  quick  to  an  understanding, 
Miss  Vanbergen,  I  make  bold  to  think  you  will  let 
me  certify  in  my  own  behalf." 

"  I  will  permit  you  to  escort  me  to  my  father,"  she 
assented,  taking  his  arm,  frankly,  and  smiling  into 
his  face;  "but  I  do  not  wish  you  to  conclude  from 
that  that  I  shall  know  you  the  next  time  I  see  you." 

"But  when,  then,  may  I  assume  that  you  know 
me?" 

"When  I  have  seen  you  under  my  father's  roof." 

"  You  give  me  leave  to  call  ? " 

"  If  you  can  find  some  one  to  fetch  you." 

"  If  not  my  father,  I  know  not  who  may  be  agree- 
able to  you,  I  am  yet  so  much  a  stranger  here." 

"  I  shall  judge  of  your  eagerness  to  make  my 
acquaintance  by  the  length  of  time  you  take  to  find 
a  sponsor." 

As  Miss  Vanbergen  was  not  without  her  quota 
of  feminine  vanities,  it  may  be  imagined  that  she 


32  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

received  very  complacently  the  flattering  extrava- 
gances called  forth  by  her  not  too  artless  remark. 
Mr.  Waring,  who  had  not  been  spoiled  by  an  academic 
devotion  to  his  studies  at  the  university,  was  well 
schooled  in  the  fulsome  art  of  flattery,  so  esteemed 
in  a  time  when  gallantry  and  skill  with  the  bottle 
were  the  conspicuous  traits  of  a  gentleman. 

In  spite  of  her  declared  theories  as  to  the  right 
beginnings  of  acquaintance  and  his  ready  endorse- 
ment of  her  views,  the  line  of  approach  to  the  place 
in  the  stand  got  insensibly  twisted  and  tangled  into 
a  labyrinth  of  wanderings ;  and  the  horses,  five  only 
of  the  starters,  were  being  led  on  to  the  track  for  the 
second  heat  when  the  young  people  finally  arrived 
at  the  steps.  Neither  of  them  was  conscious  of  a 
deviation  from  the  direct  course ;  and  if  it  were  pos- 
sible to  believe  that  sentimental  elements  may  fuse  as 
instantly  as  chemical  properties  are  blended,  it  might 
be  concluded  that  the  strangers  of  a  few  minutes 
before  were  qualified  lovers  in  the  present  moment. 
Happily,  both  were  enough  ignorant  of  the  alchemy 
of  love  to  imagine  that  nothing  more  unifying  had 
come  between  them  than  the  merits  of  the  horse-race. 

Mr.  Waring  had  been  a  fiery  partisan  of  the  Eng- 
lish racer.  Miss  Vanbergen  had  replied  to  his  attempt 
to  persuade  her  of  his  superior  knowledge  of  horse- 
flesh by  the  illogical  but  unanswerable  declaration  : 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  I  dare  say  you  are  very  right  in 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  33 

what  you  say,  but  Black  Dan  is  going  to  win  the 
race,  because  Jacob  let  me  risk  my  money  on  him, 
and  Jacob  would  not  have  done  that  if  he  did  not 
know  that  Black  Dan  can  win." 

"Jacob?" 

"  Yes,  —  Mr.  Wilbruch,  you  know." 

"Is  Mr.  Wilbruch  so  —  "  he  hesitated,  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face  intelligibly  completing  the  sentence. 

"Jacob  is  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world,"  she 
said,  heartily,  replying  to  his  unspoken  inquiry. 

"  Anything  more  ?  " 

"Good  gracious,  Mr.  Waring!  Are  you  inquisi- 
tive ? " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  bowing  with  that  excess  of 
dignity  which  suggests  the  resentment  one  must 
needs  repress. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  though,"  she  said,  much 
gratified  by  her  interpretation  of  his  sudden  reserve, 
"  that  Jacob  and  I  have  grown  up  together,  —  he  was 
my  father's  ward  till  he  came  of  age,  —  and  any  one 
who  cares  for  my  esteem  must  have  a  friendly  spirit 
for  Jacob.  And  for  that  reason  I  don't  want  you  to 
waste  any  more  money  betting  against  Jacob's  horse." 

She  laughed  and  went  up  the  steps,  acknowledging 
his  reverence  with  a  saucy  nod  of  the  head,  leaving 
him  with  the  annoying  reflection  that,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  his  brain  had  been  too  sodden  to 
command  the  functions  of  speech. 


34  IN  OLD   NEW  YORK. 

As  he  turned  away  to  cross  the  sward  to  the  track 
from  which  the  crowd  was  being  cleared,  Mr.  Stephen 
Waring  came  up  to  him. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself,  Wal- 
lace ?  I've  been  looking  for  you.  Come  with  me ;  I 
wish  to  introduce  you  to  the  Boylstons." 

"  First,  I  want  to  make  some  arrangement  of  my 
bets.  I  find  I'm  on  the  wrong  horse." 

"You  haven't  been  playing  this  Black  Dan, 
surely  ? "  Mr.  Waring  asked,  incredulously. 

"  No ;  but  that  is  what  I  am  going  to  do." 

"  Ridiculous !  You  might  as  well  wager  on  the 
resurrection  of  your  great-grandmother.  Stand  by 
your  colours.  But  I  want  you  to  know  Miss  Boyls- 
ton,"  taking  his  arm  and  moving  along  with  him  • 
"  she  is  the  one  creature  in  the  colony  I  should  like 
to  have  catch  your  fancy." 

"You  are  not  thinking  to  put  me  in  bondage,  I 
hope,  sir  ? " 

"  If  you  call  it  bondage  to  be  in  the  favour  of  the 
handsomest  girl  and  the  greatest  heiress  in  New 
York,  that  is  what  I  am  thinking  of.  It  is  what  I 
was  thinking  of  when  I  sent  for  you.  I've  set  my 
heart  upon  it.  I  want  the  girl  in  the  family,"  tapping 
Wallace's  arm  good-humou redly. 

"The  girl  or  her  money,  sir  ? " 

"The  girl  and  her  money,  Wallace!  It  is  the 
combination  that  interests  me." 


CHAPTER   III. 

Miss  BOYLSTON,  having  left  the  carriage,  was 
holding  a  petty  levee  improvised  under  one  of  the 
great  elms  that  shaded  an  end  of  the  lawn,  and  tea 
was  being  served  in  tiny  cups  to  the  group  about 
her.  She  was  in  the  vein  to  receive  Mr.  Wallace 
Waring  most  graciously,  and  installed  him  in  the 
seat  of  honour  beside  her  with  such  an  air  of  cordial 
interest  that  he  fell  at  once  into  accord  with  her 
spirit,  —  to  the  secret  delight  of  his  father,  who  was 
much  given  to  making  grave  deductions  from  exter- 
nal show.  If  the.  lady's  state  of  mind  could  have 
served  as  the  basis  of  conclusions,  Mr.  Waring  might 
have  reared  his  hopes  with  security,  for,  out  of  ques- 
tion, Miss  Boylston  was  more  than  sensible  to  the 
masculine  charm  of  person  and  manner  exerted  by 
Mr.  Wallace  Waring.  She  admitted,  in  the  smile 
that  followed  her  first  glance,  his  merit  as  a  figure  of 
fashion,  and,  finding  from  his  conversation  that  he 
did  not  fall  hopelessly  below  her  own  intellectual 
level,  allowed  to  herself  that  he  might  be  no  mean 
conquest,  if  her  inclination  should  move  her  to  the 
35 


36  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

undertaking.  Moreover,  having  sounded  the  shoals 
and  depths  of  the  fixed  society  of  her  native  place 
without  coming  upon  a  virile  treasure  more  to  her 
liking  than  Lieutenant  Willett,  whom  she  thought 
too  much  in  love  with  his  epaulets  to  have  much 
affection  left  to  bestow  on  a  wife,  Miss  Boylston  was 
the  readier  to  try  the  quality  of  the  newcomer.  She 
became  so  much  occupied  with  the  initial  skirmish 
as  to  forget  or  disregard  the  horse-race  which  others 
of  her  party  had  less  reason  to  ignore,  and  she  did 
not  fully  realise  that  she  was  quite  alone  with  Mr. 
Wallace  until  a  sudden  great  commotion  and  much 
noise  in  the  crowd  informed  them  of  an  unusual 
excitement. 

Wallace,  who  had  been  less  engrossed  in  the 
frolics  of  their  conversation,  and  who  had  a  sports- 
manlike passion  for  the  turf  that  respect  for  the  sex 
could  not  altogether  stifle,  sprang  to  his  feet  with 
profane  enthusiasm,  as  he  shouted  : 

"  By  gad,  madam,  I  believe  the  black  horse  has 
got  the  lead  !  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Boylston,  starting 
up  in  her  turn. 

"  But  a  fact,  as  I'm  a  man  of  honour !  Look ! 
You  can  see  for  yourself!  There  they  come  by 
the  third  quarter  pole ! " 

They  were  hurrying  toward  the  open  part  of  the 
enclosure  as  he  spoke,  and  the  long  reach  of  the 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  37 

"  home  stretch  "  was  in  full  view  as  they  stopped  on 
a  little  rise  of  ground  near  the  paling  fence. 

"Yes,  the  black  horse  is  ahead,"  Miss  Boylston 
admitted,  in  tremulous  excitement,  "  but  I  vow,  Mr. 
Waring,  I  think  the  English  bay  is  coming  up 
again." 

In  truth,  the  English  horse,  —  Royal  Oak  on  the 
betting  sheets,  —  after  slipping  to  second  place,  was 
forging  again  into  the  lead,  under  the  whip  of  the 
jockey,  and  had  recovered  most  of  the  lost  ground 
when  they  swept  by  the  judge's  stand,  rushing  on 
into  the  second  mile  of  the  heat  neck  and  neck 
together. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  say  how  large  a  part  in  the 
scene  of  hilarious  disorder  was  played  by  the  ladies, 
but  the  assembly  in  general  attested  tumultuously 
its  relish  of  lusty  sport  when  spiced  with  surprises,  — 
and  the  feat  of  Royal  Oak  was  a  prodigiously  fine 
shock  to  enthusiasm. 

When  the  racers  came  around,  completing  the 
second  mile,  Royal  Oak  was  half  a  length  ahead 
once  more,  but  the  more  cool-headed  onlookers,  and 
Miss  Boylston  herself  was  one  of  these,  noted  and 
remarked  upon  the  fact  that  Royal  Oak  was  under 
the  whip,  but  that  Black  Dan's  rider  crouched  in  the 
saddle  like  an  inanimate  carving  in  ebony. 

"  That  is  a  killing  pace ! "  said  Miss  Boylston. 
And  others  said  so,  too,  when  they  learned  that 


3 8  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

the  two  miles  had  been  covered  in  something  under 
the  four  minutes.  At  the  end  of  the  third  mile  the 
relative  positions  of  the  first  two  horses  were  much 
the  same  as  they  were  at  its  beginning ;  but  now,  as 
in  the  first  heat,  Jacob,  leaning  impassively  against 
the  paling,  shouted,  as  the  rivals  rushed  by  : 

"Yes,  Jim!" 

The  ebony  figure  raised  his  whip  in  the  air  as 
before,  but  this  time  the  thin  lash  came  singing 
down  upon  the  stallion's  flank,  and  Black  Dan  made 
a  leap  to  the  front.  Another  slash  and  another  leap, 
and  then  the  steady  lunging  in  a  lead  that  was  not  to 
be  overcome.  The  English  horse  had  felt  the  whip 
too  much  to  be  stung  into  greater  energy  by  its  fran- 
tic use.  He  did  not  gain  an  inch  for  all  the  welts 
lacing  his  reeking  coat. 

Every  one  seemed  bent  on  getting  on  to  the  track 
when  the  heat  was  done,  with  Black  Dan  the  winner. 
The  stands  were  abandoned,  the  commoners  surged 
in  a  mass  from  their  places,  and  in  the  confusion  and 
excitement  every  scruple  went  down  before  the  gen- 
erous democracy  of  sport.  The  spirit  of  fair  play 
was  so  untroubled  in  the  crowd  that  even  those  in 
danger  of  losing  snug  fortunes  by  the  unexpected 
turn  of  affairs  tempered  their  disappointment  by 
admiration  of  the  animal  who  had  set  their  pulses 
bounding. 

Miss  Vanbergen  had  managed  to  get  to  Jacob's 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


39 


side,  and  his  broad  shoulders  cleared  her  a  path  to 
the  centre  of  the  track,  where,  the  formalities  over,  a 
ring  was  formed  about  the  two  horses  who  were  to 
run  the  final  heat  without  other  competitors. 

"  Wasn't  it  glorious  !  Aren't  you  proud,  Jacob  ? 
Did  he  not  really  surprise  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  knew  what  Black  Dan  had  in  him."  Then, 
looking  at  her  with  a  smile  as  subtle  as  his  honest 
lips  could  fashion,  he  added,  "  I've  had  some  talks 
with  Dan  along  the  Boston  High  Road." 

"  Oh,  Jacob  !  I  would  not  have  thought  you  were 
so  crafty.  Do  you  think  he  can  do  as  well  next 
time  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

Jacob  led  Miss  Vanbergen  up  to  the  stallion  being 
blanketed  by  the  grooms  and  with  Jim  standing, 
saddle  on  arm,  beside  him.  All  the  Whig  world 
roared  out  its  joy  of  Black  Dan  in  acclamation  of 
his  owner. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Jacob  Wilbruch !  "  cried  out 
a  leather-garmented  woodsman,  flourishing  his  long 
rifle  aloft,  and  the  cheers  were  given  with  energy. 

"  And  three  cheers  for  Royal  Oak,"  Jacob  re- 
sponded, lifting  his  hat.  Right  lusty  was  the  thrice 
repeated  answer. 

The  excitement  continued  after  the  horses  had 
been  led  away  to  the  stables.  An  even-tempered 
hubbub  in  the  main,  but  not  without  some  turbulence, 


40  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

for  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  every  man  to  drink 

unguardedly  and  lose  money  with  tranquillity.  Nor 
was  it  from  the  ranks  of  the  vulgar  that  the  greatest 
disorder  arose.  At  a  time  when  gallantry  and  the 
bottle  were  the  gauges  of  a  gentleman's  quality, 
sobriety  was  necessarily  excluded  from  the  list  of 
cardinal  virtues ;  and  a  young  man  of  fashion  would 
rather  have  worn  blemished  lace  on  his  front  than 
have  suffered  the  question  of  his  bibulous  proficiency. 
It  was,  then,  quite  consistent  with  the  ordering  of 
exceptions  to  a  general  rule  that  Mr.  Vinton  Spencer, 
a  young  gentleman  refined  to  an  effeminate  nicety  in 
dress  and  appearance,  should  have  been  in  a  state  of 
mind  to  whip  out  his  sword  and  thrust  viciously  at 
the  negro  boy,  Jim,  on  his  way  to  the  stable,  crying : 

"  There  is  the  damned  black  imp  that  will  bring  us 
to  destruction." 

The  first  thrust  having  failed  to  do  more  than 
make  a  hole  in  the  sleeve  of  Jim's  blouse,  Mr. 
Spencer  was  of  a  purpose  to  better  '  the  assault, 
when  the  sword  was  wrested  from  his  hand  by  Mr. 
Jacob  Wilbruch  and  broken  into  halves  over  that 
gentleman's  knee. 

"That  was  not  well  done,  Mr.  Wilbruch,"  cried 
Lieutenant  Willett,  stepping  to  the  support  of  the 
furious  Mr.  Spencer. 

"  I  am  of  opinion  it  was  superbly  done,  Lieutenant 
Willett ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Wallace  Waring,  who  had 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  41 

left  Miss  Boylston  in  order  to  see  Black  Dan  rubbed 
down. 

"  He  shall  answer  for  it,"  screamed  Mr.  Spencer, 
flinging  himself  forward  at  Jacob,  but  restrained  by 
some  friendly  hands. 

"You  think  it  well  done  to  break  a  gentleman's 
sword  in  that  fashion,  Mr.  Waring  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  no  gentleman's  sword  broken, 
Lieutenant  Willett." 

"Do  you  insult  me,  sir?"  shouted  Mr.  Spencer, 
turning  his  rage  from  Jacob  to  Wallace. 

"  I  think  not,"  Wallace  answered,  coolly  eyeing  the 
young  man's  threatening  attitude. 

"  Mr.  Waring,"  said  Lieutenant  Willett,  as  he  took 
Spencer  by  the  arm,  "  there  is  no  occasion  to  your 
taking  up  a  quarrel  that  cannot  concern  you.  'Tis 
between  my  friend  and  Mr.  Wilbruch.  Mr.  Spencer 
was  at  some  fault  to  thrust  at  the  nigger,  but  the 
nigger  was  insolent  —  " 

"  In  that  you  are  wrong,  lieutenant,"  said  Jacob, 
speaking  for  the  first  time;  "Jim  had  said  nothing." 

"But  he  grinned  into  our  faces,  damn  him  !  "  Mr. 
Spencer  exclaimed.  "  Insolence  enough  in  that  to 
cost  him  his  ears  !  " 

"  Whatever  the  provocation  to  the  act  of  my 
friend,"  continued  the  lieutenant,  "Mr.  Wilbruch 
offended  against  taste  and  honour  in  breaking  his 
sword.  You  cannot  dissent  from  that." 


42  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"If  a  man  make  a  dastardly  use  of  his  sword, 
Lieutenant  Willett,  he  is  too  much  complimented 
if  an  honest  gentleman  take  the  trouble  to  break  it 
for  him.  Mr.  Wilbruch,  I  would  be  glad  to  see  your 
horse  at  nearer  view ;  will  you  allow  me  the  favour  ? " 

"  You  shall  hear  from  me ! "  Mr.  Spencer  prom- 
ised, as  Jacob  and  Wallace  went  on  toward  the 
stables,  followed  by  Jim,  who  was  rather  proud  to 
have  been  the  cause  of  so  threatening  a  disagree- 
ment between  his  betters. 

The  group  attracted  by  the  disturbance  was  not 
disposed,  it  must  be  admitted,  to  take  Wallace  War- 
ing's  view  of  the  provoking  incident.  The  breaking 
of  a  gentleman's  sword  in  that  summary  way  was 
thought  to  be  an  act  of  ruffianly  brutality,  grossly 
out  of  proportion  to  the  trifling  circumstance  of 
spitting  a  nigger,  —  killing  a  black  being  only  a 
finable  offence,  under  the  wholesome  law  of  the 
day. 

Mr.  Spencer  was  therefore  surrounded  by  sympa- 
thisers as  he  leaned  on  the  arm  of  Lieutenant  Wil- 
lett, going  over  to  the  Drovers'  Inn,  where  they 
might  discuss  their  grievances  to  some  purpose  during 
the  wait  for  the  final  heat. 

At  the  inn,  one  of  the  listeners  to  the  highly 
coloured  variations  upon  the  facts  which  it  pleased 
the  imaginative  Mr.  Spencer  to  declaim  was  Gaspard 
Renaud,  said  to  have  been  of  service  to  the  colony 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  43 

in  some  forgotten  Indian  campaign.  This  ancient 
well-doing  seemed  to  have  secured  to  Gaspard  a  per- 
petual right  to  be  dissolutely  indolent,  the  monotony 
of  his  existence  being  relieved  by  occasional  expedi- 
tions after  wolf  scalps,  the  bounty  on  which  gave 
him  enough  for  his  scant  needs  during  three  or  four 
months  of  idleness.  It  was  said  of  Gaspard  that  he 
could  put  out  a  turkey's  eye  at  a  distance  of  three 
hundred  yards.  Gaspard  listened  very  attentively, 
smoking  his  short  black  pipe. 

After  a  time  Lieutenant  Willett  left  with  a  com- 
mission to  present  the  compliments  of  Mr.  Vinton 
Spencer  to  Mr.  Jacob  Wilbruch,  most  of  the  party 
returning  with  him  to  the  track.  Mr.  Spencer  re- 
mained to  finish  a  bottle  and  some  vagrant  reflections 
not  of  a  character  to  give  sunniness  to  his  counte- 
nance. When  the  bell  rang  to  call  the  horses  to 
the  course,  Mr.  Spencer  paid  his  reckoning,  flung 
the  petty  change  among  some  boys  playing  at  bowls 
on  a  stretch  of  turf,  got  on  his  feet  unsteadily,  and 
set  himself  moving  in  the  direction  of  the  crowd. 
Gaspard  Renaud  rose,  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe,  and  slouched  away  from  the  inn  aimlessly,  by 
the  merest  chance  following  in  the  steps  of  Mr. 
Spencer. 

The  story  of  the  assault  upon  the  negro  boy  Jim, 
much  exaggerated  by  repetitions,  and  numerous  alter- 
cations in  which  the  arguments  of  the  fist  were 


44 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 


substituted  for  those  of  the  tongue,  had  done  all  that 
was  necessary  to  swell  the  normal  interest  in  the 
race  into  an  intemperate  zeal  of  partisanship.  Natu- 
rally enough,  the  non-betters  were  the  more  tumultu- 
ous in  the  expression  of  their  ardour,  and,  not  being 
hindered  by  material  considerations,  were  the  more 
ready  to  change  sides  that  they  might  be  with  the 
victor,  whatever  his  colour.  When  the  horses  came 
on  to  the  track  for  the  decisive  struggle,  the  least 
discriminating  ear  in  the  multitude  would  have  had 
no  difficulty  in  deciding  that  the  preponderance  of 
noise  was  on  the  side  of  Black  Dan.  Some  of  the 
more  cautious  gamesters  quietly  protected  their  bets 
on  Royal  Oak,  but  the  young  gentlemen,  with  sports- 
manlike fidelity  to  the  cause  espoused,  were  generally 
of  a  spirit  to  stand  by  the  "foreigner,"  though  they 
refrained  from  adding  to  the  money  value  of  their 
sentiments.  Indeed,  very  little  new  money  was  being 
wagered,  when,  just  as  the  horses  were  off,  with 
Royal  Oak  a  feather  in  advance,  Mr.  Vinton  Spencer 
came,  flushed  and  feverish,  into  the  midst  of  a  group, 
flourishing  a  handful  of  notes  aloft,  and  shouting : 

"  Five  to  one  on  Royal  Oak  for  as  much  as  you 
please  !  " 

"I'll  take  that  for  a  hundred!"  said  Mr.  Allen 
Bradford,  who  had  been  a  supporter  of  Black  Dan 
from  the  outset. 

"  No,  no,  Bradford,"  interposed  Lieutenant  Willett, 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  45 

in  what  was  meant  to  be  an  undertone,  "  don't  you 
see  that  Vint  is  drunk  ?  " 

"  Drunk !  "  protested  Mr.  Spencer.  "  I  am  as 
sober  as  yourself,  lieutenant.  I  know  what  I  am 
about,  I  promise  you.  Out  with  your  money,  Brad- 
ford ;  Willett  shall  hold  the  pigs  for  us.  There  are 
mine." 

"There  are  no  such  odds  ;  Mr.  Bradford  will  not 
take  advantage  of  your  liberality.  At  best,  'tis  an 
even  chance." 

"  You  are  wrong,  lieutenant,"  Mr.  Spencer  urged, 
with  a  significant  shake  of  the  head,  "but  I'm  for 
Bradford  on  an  even  hundred,  if  he  will  take  me." 

But  Mr.  Bradford,  agreeing  with  the  lieutenant 
upon  the  injudicious  character  of  Mr.  Spencer's 
emotion,  declined  the  offer  politely,  and  the  tipsy 
young  gentleman  meandered  through  the  throng  in 
quest  of  more  obliging  amateurs. 

Every  one  was  more  engrossed  in  the  eager  excite- 
ment of  watching  the  swift-moving  figures  gliding 
like  silhouettes  against  the  splash  of  ensanguined  gold 
left  by  the  runaway  sun.  Two  better  matched  racers 
had  never  pounded  the  turf  of  the  Church  Farm  oval. 
They  rounded  the  first  mile  so  well  together  that  the 
tail  of  one  might  have  swished  the  rump  of  the  other, 
and  the  delighted  onlookers  discharged  a  vocal  salvo 
that  probably  reechoed  from  the  Brooklyn  Heights. 

Wallace  Waring  had  found  his  way  to  Miss  Van- 


46  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

bergen,  and  had  become  magnetised  into  a  confirmed 
Dan-ite  by  the  fire  of  her  enthusiasm. 

"  You  see  what  Mr.  Wilbruch's  tactics  have  been, 
—  to  keep  the  horses  at  their  highest  speed  from  start 
to  finish.  He  relies  on  Black  Dan's  powers  of  en- 
durance to  win." 

"  And  Black  Dan  could  go  on  for  ever  that  way," 
cried  Miss  Vanbergen,  in  a  transport. 

"  But  Royal  Oak  is  getting  too  much  of  it,"  Wal- 
lace replied,  with  more  cheerfulness  than  was  relig- 
iously in  keeping  with  his  early  devotion  to  that 
valiant  animal. 

Round  came  the  flyers  again,  and  again  they  van- 
ished down  the  quarter  stretch,  the  bay  throwing  off 
clots  of  foam,  the  black  shining  like  a  spaniel  fresh 
from  a  waterway.  At  the  half-mile  pole,  Jim's  arm 
rose  and  fell  twice  in  quick  succession,  and  Black 
Dan  had  made  two  of  his  masterful  bounds  which 
gave  him  a  neck  to  the  fore.  In  that  position  the 
third  mile  was  completed  and  the  fourth  begun.  The 
crowd  became  delirious.  The  race  was  won.  Strain 
as  he  might,  Royal  Oak  could  not  hope  to  inch  past 
that  tireless  engine  leaping  with  great  even  springs, 
as  if  the  first  instead  of  the  last  of  the  twelve 
hard  miles  were  loosening  his  muscles.  Cheers  and 
laughter  and  shouts,  bravoes  and  screams  from  the 
crowd,  a  frantic  throwing  aloft  of  hats  and  a  mad 
wave  of  handkerchiefs,  as  the  horses,  hidden  a 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  47 

moment  from  view  by  a  clump  of  bushes  near  the 
three-quarter  pole,  came  swerving  around  the  bend 
into  the  straight  sweep  home.  But  in  that  instant 
the  foremost  horse  was  seen  to  rear  in  the  air,  lunge 
forward,  and  fall  in  a  heap,  the  dark  mass  lying 
motionless  as  Royal  Oak  sped  on  and  finished  alone. 
Over  the  clump  of  bushes,  a  thing  unnoticed  by  any 
one  in  the  dumfounded  multitude,  a  thin  white  patch 
of  cloud  floated  for  a  moment  and  dissolved  in  the 
breeze. 

Jacob  was  the  first  to  leap  the  paling  and  start  on 
a  run  up  the  track,  but  thousands  were  close  behind 
him,  men  and  women  and  children,  the  gentry  and 
those  of  low  degree  following  breathlessly,  stirred, 
maybe,  by  a  nobler  emotion  than  curiosity,  —  for 
the  boy  Jim  had  not  risen  from  that  still  mass 
on  the  beaten  turf. 

Black  Dan  had  fallen  shot  through  the  heart,  and 
the  boy  lay  crushed  beneath  him. 

Nigger  boy  Jim  rode  for  his  freedom  that  day. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MR.  ZENGER'S  paper,  appearing  two  days  later,  in 
its  appointed  time  of  the  week,  contained  an  adequate 
though  brief  review  of  the  Church  Farm  events  and 
casualties.  Patriotic  zeal  tended  somewhat  to  em- 
bitter Mr.  Zenger's  comment,  and  he  possibly  went 
beyond  the  proper  limits  of  journalistic  license  in 
denouncing  "the  vicious  interruption  of  the  race  in 
the  barbarous  killing  of  a  noble  animal  and  the 
incidental  sacrifice  of  a  human,  though  humble,  life." 
He  could  see  in  the  affair  only  another  of  those  acts 
of  tyrannous  oppression  which  the  policy  of  wretched 
King  George  and  his  unscrupulous  ministers  em- 
ployed to  crush  the  rising  spirit  of  independence 
in  the  colonies.  He  had  no  sort  of  doubt  that  a 
royalist  conspiracy  against  the  expansion  of  native 
genius  had  determined  this  "atrocious  dishonour  of 
sport,"  and  burned  with  indignation  that  the  judges 
had  declared  for  "  no  race,"  instead  of  awarding  the 
victory  to  the  splendid  creature  slain  in  the  very 
moment  of  his  certain  triumph. 

This  was  the  concluding  paragraph  of  Mr.  Zenger's 
article : 

48 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  49 

"  In  the  confusion  and  indignation  of  the  people, 
the  perpetrator  of  the  deed  had  time  to  make  off 
before  search  for  him  was  thought  of.  Then,  Mr. 
Wilbruch  and  Mr.  Wallace  Waring,  the  new-arrived 
son  of  our  distinguished  townsman,  Mr.  Stephen 
Waring,  set  off  together,  followed  by  a  hundred  or 
more  stout  citizens  and  farmers,  to  scour  the  neigh- 
bourhood for  the  miscreant.  They  were  able  to 
track  him  to  Beekman's  Swamp,  but  the  nature  of 
the  place  and  the  coming  on  darkness  were  to  the 
advantage  of  the  fugitive,  and  trace  of  him  was  lost, 
though  the  chase  was  not  given  over  until  far  into 
the  night  and  after  a  party  with  torches  had  beaten 
the  swamp  as  well  as  might  be.  The  pity  of  it  is 
that  the  villain  has,  for  the  time,  escaped  vengeance ; 
but  Mr.  Wilbruch  has  offered,  as  may  be  seen  by  his 
advertisement  elsewhere  printed  in  this  paper,  a  re- 
ward of  ,£100  for  the  fellow's  apprehension,  a 
reward  large  enough,  in  all  conscience,  to  give 
some  hope  of  justice  being  done  right  speedily,  it 
being  out  of  question  that  the  fellow  has  accom- 
plices." 

While  the  polite  subscribers  to  Mr.  Zenger's  paper 
were  reading  this  article  and  wondering  how  it  would 
compare  with  the  account  Mr.  de  Foreest  should  pre- 
sent in  the  Evening  Post  of  the  next  Monday,  the 
point  of  honour  between  Mr.  Vinton  Spencer  and 
Mr.  Jacob  Wilbruch  was  in  a  way  to  be  settled  in 


50  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

a  bowery  garden  at  Golden  Hill.  Mr.  Spencer 
was  accompanied  by  Lieutenant  Willett.  Jacob 
had  gratefully  accepted  the  volunteered  services  of 
Wallace  Waring,  a  friendly  sympathy  having  been 
established  between  the  two  by  the  circumstances 
of  their  acquaintance. 

Mr.  Philip  Ashton  and  Mr.  Allen  Bradford  were 
also  of  the  party.  The  six  young  men,  having  ex- 
changed greetings,  strolled  down  into  a  secluded 
part  of  the  garden  without  betraying  to  the  good 
dame  who  kept  the  house  any  sinister  purpose,  and 
set  themselves  promptly  to  the  business  of  their 
meeting. 

Some  perfunctory  things  were  said  in  a  genteel 
fashion  as  to  the  conveniences  of  a  reconciliation, 
and  Mr.  Wilbruch  had  declared  with  much  frankness 
that  he  knew  of  no  reason  why  he  should  wish  to  do 
Mr.  Vinton  Spencer  an  injury.  Mr.  Spencer  in  his 
turn,  with  a  strangeness  of  manner  that  piqued  the 
lieutenant,  made  answer  : 

"  I  must  cross  swords  with  Mr.  Wilbruch  for  my 
credit's  sake." 

And  cross  swords  they  did  right  prettily,  the 
astonishing  skill  and  lightness  of  Mr.  Spencer  being 
a  match  for  the  superior  strength  and  tolerable  deft- 
ness of  Mr.  Wilbruch's  play ;  so  that  it  occasioned 
no  small  surprise  when,  after  five  minutes  of  danger- 
ous thrusting  and  parrying,  Mr.  Spencer's  sword  made 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  51 

ar  lively  parabola  into  a  bush  six  feet  away,  leaving 
that  gentleman's  breast  quite  at  the  mercy  of  his 
adversary's  point. 

Mr.  Wilbruch  saluted  as  if  it  had  been  the  friend- 
liest of  fencing  bouts,  and  signalled  Mr.  Spencer  to 
recover  his  sword. 

Mr.  Spencer  cast  an  irresolute  glance  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  sword,  drew  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt  across 
his  forehead,  and,  to  the  utter  consternation  of  Lieu- 
tenant Willett,  cried  out : 

"  It's  all  a  damned  farce,  my  pretending  to  defend 
my  honour.  I  haven't  got  any  honour." 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  saying,  Spencer ! "  ex- 
claimed the  lieutenant,  the  others  showing  no  less 
perplexity  of  countenance. 

"  I'm  not  fit  to  fight  with  a  man  of  honour,  for 
I'm  a  blackguard." 

"  Spencer !  " 

"It's  true!  I'm  worse  than  a  blackguard!  For 
it  was  I  who  brought  about  that  thing  of  the  race. 
I  paid  for  the  shot  that  killed  Black  Dan  !  " 

This  was  an  incredible  sort  of  confession.  The 
men  were  stupefied  by  it.  They  stood  staring  at 
Spencer  in  silence.  Jacob  had  made  an  involuntary 
movement  forward,  and  his  hand  gripped  harder  the 
hilt  of  his  sword,  but  unbelief  arrested  him.  The 
thing  was  too  monstrous. 

"  I  don't  remember  it  all,"  Spencer  went  on,  like 


5 2  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

one  unworthy  and  indifferent  to  judgment;  "the 
most  of  it  is  a  mere  shadow  in  my  mind.  But  I 
remember  a  man  came  to  me,  and  asked,  'What 
would  it  be  worth  to  you  if  the  black  horse  should 
lose?'  I  don't  know  what  I  answered,  but  I  know 
he  said,  '  Give  me  twenty  pounds,  and  the  black  horse 
shall  stumble  if  he  is  ahead  in  the  last  mile.'  I  don't 
know  what  I  was  thinking  of.  I  gave  him  the  money. 
I  didn't  realise  anything  about  it  all  until  I  saw  the 
little  nigger  boy,  and  knew  that  I  had  killed  him. 
I  hadn't  thought  of  anything  like  that,  I  know.  I 
hadn't  even  thought  of  harm  to  the  horse.  I  didn't 
know  what  that  devil  had  in  mind  to  do.  I  was  only 
thinking  of  a  stumble.  But  I'm  a  blackguard  in  the 
best  of  it.  I  only  crossed  swords  with  Mr.  Wilbruch 
because  I  didn't  want  to  be  thought  a  coward  among 
the  rest." 

Spencer  turned  to  take  up  his  coat. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Lieutenant  Willett,  addressing 
the  others,  "  I  give  you  my  word  I  knew  nothing  of 
this." 

"That  as  a  matter  of  course,  lieutenant,"  said  Mr. 
Bradford,  bowing,  Jacob  and  Wallace  acquiescing  in 
like  manner. 

Jacob  moved  over  toward  Spencer. 

"  Who  was  the  man  ? "  he  asked,  by  no  means  in 
a  conciliatory  tone. 

Spencer  looked  up,  a  momentary  tinge  of  resent- 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  53 

ment  giving  a  dignity  to  the  pallor  of  his  delicately 
feminine  face. 

"You  don't  expect  me  to  answer  that  question, 
Mr.  Wilbruch  ? " 

"  But  I  do  expect  you  to  answer  it ! " 

"  Then  I  decline.  The  fellow  acted  at  my  instiga- 
tion. I  won't  denounce  him.  I  stand  in  his  place. 
I  take  the  responsibility." 

"  He  is  right,"  said  Wallace,  taking  Jacob's  arm. 
"  The  real  culprit  is  here.  It  would  need  Mr.  Spen- 
cer's testimony  to  convict  the  fellow  who  fired  the 
shot,  and  I  fancy  Mr.  Spencer  will  not  care  to  send 
another  man  to  wear  a  prison  garb  that  belongs  on 
his  own  shoulders." 

"  You  put  the  case  too  bluntly,  Mr.  Waring,"  said 
Mr.  Ashton.  "  I  protest  I  think  Mr.  Spencer  more 
the  victim  of  circumstances  than  you  seem  willing 
to  allow." 

"That  may  be  claimed  for  any  man  who  finds 
himself  in  a  false  position,  Mr.  Ashton,"  Wallace 
replied.  "  Few  of  us,  I  take  it,  would  be  at  fault  if 
circumstances  were  wholly  in  our  control." 

"We  are  not  to  discuss  ethics,  I  suppose,"  the 
lieutenant  said,  taking  up  Spencer's  sword  as  he 
spoke.  "The  question  is  as  to  what  course  Mr. 
Wilbruch  is  resolved  to  pursue.  You  are  the  only 
material  sufferer  by  the  accident,  Mr.  Wilbruch, 
and,  though  the  loss  is  not  to  be  repaired  alto- 


54  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

gather,  I  am  sure  Mr.  Spencer  will  arrange  to  meet 
the  money  value  of  your  property." 

"And  I  know  not  what  more  can  be  asked,"  Mr. 
Ashton  volunteered,  as  he  dipped  his  fingers  into  his 
snuff-box  and  inhaled  a  pinch,  judicially. 

"The  money  value  is  the  least  consideration," 
Jacob  answered.  "I  think  my  boy  Jim  was  mur- 
dered as  much  as  if  the  bullet  had  been  fired  into 
his  heart.  I  don't  know  what  the  law  might  think 
of  it;  I  think  of  it  as  murder,  and  I  make  no 
compromise  with  crime." 

Spencer  paled  and  looked  askance  at  Jacob. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  will  lodge  complaint 
against  him  ?  "  demanded  the  lieutenant. 

"  No ;  but  I  shall  use  what  means  I  may  to  dis- 
cover the  man  who  fired  that  shot." 

The  lieutenant  handed  the  sword  to  Spencer,  who 
was  about  to  put  it  in  place  at  his  side,  when  Wallace 
made  a  sign  to  arrest  him. 

"  Wait  one  moment.  I  think  we  are  agreed  with- 
out words  to  keep  Mr.  Spencer's  confession  a  secret 
among  ourselves ;  but  I  think  it  proper  we  should 
take  account  of  his  —  well,  offences ;  and,  for  my 
part,  I  shall  object  to  seeing  the  chief  badge  of  a 
gentleman  hanging  at  the  hip  of  one  who  has  —  " 

"  Mr.  Waring,"  Spencer  interrupted,  taking  his 
sword  by  the  blade,  and  tendering  Wallace  the  hilt, 
"  I  make  no  excuses  for  my  conduct ;  I  resent  noth- 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK:.  55 

ing  you  have  to  say,  since  the  worst  you  can  say  of 
me  must  fall  short  of  what  I  have  said  of  myself.  But 
intention  must  have  something  to  do  with  dishonour. 
I  claim  some  little  on  that  score.  You  may  take  my 
sword ;  I  am  content  to  be  without  it  until  you 
return  it  to  me  as  gentleman  to  gentleman." 

This  was  an  unconsciously  well-contrived  theatrical 
effect  on  Mr.  Spencer's  part.  The  young  gentlemen, 
taken  by  surprise,  were  inclined  to  regard  it  as  an 
effectively  eloquent  bit  of  heroic  sentiment,  and  it 
touched  the  magnanimous  side  of  them  rather  com- 
mandingly.  Mr.  Waring,  taking  the  sword  with 
some  indecision,  bowed,  as  if  apologising  for  the 
act,  and,  in  his  turn,  handed  the  weapon  to  Jacob. 
Mr.  Wilbruch,  holding  it  in  an  embarrassed  way  for 
a  little  time,  during  which  time  he  seemed  to  be 
balancing  the  steel  against  some  mental  scruples, 
said,  at  length : 

"  I  am  willing  to  allow  Mr.  Spencer  to  decide  for 
himself  when  he  shall  wear  it." 

Whereupon,  he  returned  the  sword  to  its  owner. 

Lieutenant  Willett  had  a  cynical  appreciation  of 
the  sentimental  vapours  which  make  life  rosy  for 
so  many  of  us,  and  he  discovered  a  comical  element 
in  the  serious  aspects  of  the  three  principal  figures 
in  the  scene. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  nigh  of 
kin  to  a  laugh,  "  since  we  are  all  of  an  accord  in  the 


56  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

matter,  put  your  sword  in  its  scabbard,  Spencer,  and 
let  us  to  the  Black  Horse  Tavern,  where  I  shall  be 
pleased  to  entertain  the  party  at  dinner." 

But  they  went  their  several  ways,  Wallace  with 
Jacob  to  make  his  first  call  upon  Miss  Luya  Van- 
bergen. 

Mr.  Spencer  set  out  two  days  later,  filled  with  a 
heroic  fantasy,  to  join  the  New  England  volunteers 
besieging  Louisburg.  He  arrived  in  time  to  witness 
the  surrender  of  the  French  after  a  scandalous  and 
ineffectual  defence  of  their  almost  impregnable  fort. 


CHAPTER   V. 

MR.  STEPHEN  WARING  was  a  man  of  reflective 
ambitions.  That  is  to  say,  he  planned  not  for  his 
own,  but  for  his  son's  aggrandisement.  Amiable 
enough,  as  the  world  goes,  he  nourished  some  preju- 
dices that  gave  a  slight  obliquity  to  his  character, 
and  made  him  rather  more  attentive  to  material  than 
to  moral  values,  but  which  were  not  pronounced 
enough  to  put  in  peril  the  intense  respectability  in 
which  his  soul  reposed.  He  had  never  been  able  to 
forgive  his  grandfather  the  misdemeanour  of  crowd- 
ing into  a  family  already  overstocked  with  six  lusty 
boys,  and,  in  rebuke  of  that  ancestral  want  of  fore- 
thought, he  determined  that  his  own  first-born  and 
last-born  should  be  incorporated  in  one.  "Since 
the  law  takes  it  upon  itself  to  discriminate  between 
early  and  late  comers,"  he  declared,  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  envious  youth,  "I'll  see  to  it  that  my  heirs 
arrive  together.  That  is  the  only  way  in  which  I 
can  be  just  to  all  my  children."  Whether -or  not  he 
would  have  adhered  to  the  resolution  had  Fate  not 
come  to  his  support,  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  con- 
sider. When  Mrs.  Waring  saw  that  Wallace  was 

57 


58  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

well  ushered  into  being,  she  seemed  to  conclude 
that  she  had  performed  to  the  full  her  Christian 
duty,  and  the  sigh  that  slipped  through  the  wan 
lips  parted  by  a  smile  was  the  flight  of  her  spirit 
to  its  reward. 

Mr.  Waring  was,  at  that  time,  a  barrister  whose 
talents  the  British  public  had  not  yet  learned  to 
esteem,  and  he  knew  tp  the  nicest  tilt  of  the  scales 
how  many  ounces  of  meat  a  week  were  within  the 
limits  of  genteel  poverty.  As  he  believed  poverty 
to  be  as  much  a  disease  as  any  other  infirmity  of 
the  flesh,  he  devoted  himself  to  its  cure  in  his  own 
case.  Though  little  came  of  his  efforts  in  the  first 
years,  a  persevering  energy,  fortified  by  an  unshak- 
able faith  in  himself,  proved  ultimately  to  be  a 
sovereign  remedy,  and  when  Wallace  arrived  at  col- 
legiate years  he  found  none  of  his  demands  upon 
the  paternal  source  of  supply  too  extravagant  for 
immediate  acknowledgment,  and  that,  too,  without 
a  precept  being  attached  to  the  cheque. 

Had  Mr.  Waring' s  physical  forces  been  equal  to 
the  strain  put  upon  them  by  his  mental  vitality,  he 
might  have  ended  his  fortunate  days  on  the  King's 
Bench,  and  been  be-lorded  to  his  heart's  content. 
The  distribution  being  unequal,  he  was  compelled, 
while  yet  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  to  quit  the  bar, 
and  go  voyaging  for  health.  He  left  Wallace  in 
the  care  of  relatives  who  were  grateful  to  profit  by 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  59 

his  keep,  and  came  on  a  visit  to  the  colonies.  Than 
New  York  Bay  and  its  surroundings  the  prodigal 
earth  could  offer  the  eye  no  more  perfect  vision 
of  beauty,  before  Mammon  had  laid  waste  God's 
handiwork,  and  Mr.  Waring  was  enchanted  as  his 
ship  sailed  into  the  port.  The  hospitality  of  his 
reception  completed  the  charm,  and  his  visit  imper- 
ceptibly grew  into  residence;  before  he  was  well 
aware  of  it,  he  had  "  interests  "  in  the  thriving  town. 
Here  Mr.  Waring's  prejudices  became  convictions. 
His  had  been  a  life  of  money-getting,  with  only  the 
remote  possibility  of  honours  in  old  age.  His  son 
must  start  life  with  the  money  already  in  hand.  He 
had  married  for  love,  without  a  thought  of  bettering 
his  material  condition  or  extending  his  social  influ- 
ence. His  son  must  take  a  more  practical  view  of 
hymeneal  usage.  He  had  entered  into  competition 
with  an  army  of  eager  aspirants  under  the  restric- 
tions of  an  ancient  and  tradition-environed  society. 
His  son  should  have  the  advantages  of  a  new  field 
and  a  limited  rivalry. 

Detesting  trade  as  the  very  foundation  of  vul- 
garity, Mr.  Waring  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that 
the  mercantile  spirit  of  the  steadily  developing  port 
was  the  Prospero  of  the  island.  He  resolved  to 
make  use  of  trade  without  becoming  identified  with 
its  agents.  After  a  season  of  careful  investigation, 
he  ascertained  that  the  most  sagacious,  or,  at  any 


60  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

rate,  the  luckiest  of  the  more  extensive  merchants 
was  Evert  Vanbergen,  the  grandson  of  one  Claes 
Vanbergen,  a  stout  Hollander  who  had  come  over 
when  Kieft  was  governor  of  New  Amsterdam,  by 
grace  of  the  West  Indies  Company.  Mr.  Waring 
decided  to  sound  the  Dutchman. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  lived  in  a  quaint  Dutch  house,  the 
grass-plat  in  front  of  which  ran  down  to  unite  with 
the  turf  of  the  wide  Parade,  where  Fashion  came  of 
an  afternoon  to  idle  an  hour  or  two  in  the  shade 
of  the  wide  branching  elms.  He  sat,  a  picture  of 
round  content  and  prosperous  ease,  on  his  front 
stoop,  one  afternoon,  leisurely  smoking  his  long- 
stemmed  pipe,  when  Mr.  Waring  strolled  by,  con- 
triving to  drop  his  handkerchief  as  he  passed.  Mr. 
Vanbergen,  who  always  reached  conclusions  by  a 
deliberate  process  of  intellection,  regarded  the  lace- 
trimmed  fabric  so  long  without  signalling  its  owner 
that  Mr.  Waring  began  to  doubt  the  success  of  his 
strategem,  and  was  on  the  point  of  turning  back  when 
Mr.  Vanbergen  called.  Recovering  his  handkerchief, 
Mr.  Waring  addressed  some  pleasantries  of  thanks 
to  the  complacent  Dutchman,  and  paused  to  add  a 
compliment  on  the  view  to  be  had  from  the  door- 
steps. 

"Ja,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  assented,  while  a  good- 
humoured  light  spread  over  his  ruddy  face,  "  'tis 
very  fine,  Mr.  Waring." 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  6 1 

"  You  know  me,  then  ? "  Mr.  Waring  asked. 

"Oh,  ja,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  laughed,  "ve  know  all 
t'e  strangers  t'at  coom." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  two  men  were  seated  together 
on  the  stoop  bench,  talking  amicably  of  the  town's 
prospects  and  of  the  steady  increase  of  the  English 
population,  Mr.  Vanbergen  having  that  gracious  air 
of  proprietary  benevolence  with  which  a  native  always 
enlightens  a  visitor  as  to  the  merits  and  wonders 
of  a  community.  Having  shaped  the  conversa- 
tion favourably  to  his  purpose,  Mr.  Waring  at  length 
intimated  that  he  had  an  idle  capital  which  he  should 
not  object  to  put  to  use  if  he  could  find  a  proper 
person  with  whom  to  entrust  it. 

"  Ja,"  said  Mr.  Vanbergen,  complacently  puffing 
out  the  fumes  of  his  fragrant  Virginia  leaf,  "  'tis 
a  goot  t'ing  to  to." 

The  gaze  of  his  indolent  gray  eyes  went  over  the 
Parade  and  beyond  the  Battery,  exploring  the  patch- 
less  blue  of  the  sky  curving  over  the  scarcely  rufHed 
turquoise  of  the  bay  and  blending  with  the  azure 
haze  that  covered,  like  a  delicate  enamel,  the  Jersey 
distance.  There  was  no  avidity  in  that  serene  face. 
Mr.  Waring  recognised  the  necessity  of  a  straight- 
forward, unequivocal  proposition.  The  Dutchman 
offered  too  ingenuous  or  too  subtle  a  resistance  for 
the  employment  of  tactical  methods. 

"  In  short,  Mr.  Vanbergen,"  Mr.  Waring  began, 


62  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

with  affable  candour,  "  what  I  learn  of  your  character 
and  business  capacity  informs  me  that  I  can  make 
no  better  use  of  my  money  than  to  associate  it  with 
your  enterprise.  If  I  put  in  a  sum  to  equal  or 
approximate  your  capital,  you  would  double  your 
undertakings  and  probably  quadruple  your  profits. 
You  are  a  business  man,  —  there  is  no  need  that  I 
waste  words." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  went  regularly  to  the  church  and 
said  his  nightly  prayers  with  pious  devotion,  but, 
for  all  that,  trade  was  his  religion,  not  because  the 
love  of  gain  was  in  his  soul,  but  because  far-reaching 
commerce  was  a  superb  trial  of  genius  as  he  con- 
ceived it,  and  to  be  a  great  merchant  as  a  result  of 
one's  own  achieving  was,  in  his  opinion,  to  compass 
the  glory  of  the  earth.  His  present  ambition  was  to 
be  first  among  the  merchants  of  New  York,  and  the 
doubling  of  his  operative  power  would  place  him  so 
near  to  the  realisation  of  that  haunting  dream  that 
Mr.  Waring' s  suggestion  of  the  thing  produced  in 
him  a  joy  that  was  apoplectic  in  its  effects.  The  rud- 
diness of  his  face  was  intensified  into  darkness.  His 
eyes  stared  fixed  and  protruding.  His  tongue  seemed 
to  fill  his  mouth.  A  stupor  came  upon  him.  Mr. 
Waring,  looking  at  the  gay  crowd  in  the  Parade,  was 
unaware  of  Mr.  Vanbergen' s  peril,  and  ascribed  the 
silence  to  the  deliberation  of  his  host.  He  allowed 
time  for  the  momentous  reflection,  and  when  at  last 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  63 

he  turned  with  a  question,  Mr.  Vanbergen  was  puff- 
ing his  pipe  as  calmly  as  a  contented  creature  should 
smoke. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Vanbergen  ? " 

"Veil,  Mr.  Varing?" 

"  What  do  you  say  to  my  offer  ? " 

"Veil,  Mr.  Varing,  I  t'ink  t'at  I  petter  manatge 
my  pusiness  by  myself.  I  haf  my  own  vay,  ant  I 
ton't  t'ink  some  ot'er  man's  vays  vould  suit  me." 

"Then,  Mr.  Vanbergen,  we  can  easily  come  to  an 
arrangement,  and  you  anticipate  what  I  was  in  the 
way  to  propose.  I  should  wish  to  leave  the  manage- 
ment of  our  interests  wholly  in  your  hands.  In  fact, 
I  do  not  intend  to  be  known  in  the  matter  at  all.  I 
have  no  taste  for  trade.  To  be  open  with  you,  I  could 
not  afford  to  have  it  supposed  that  I  was  engaged  in 
business.  Any  agreement  between  us  would  be  of  a 
private  and  confidential  nature.  I  should  not  inter- 
fere with  you  in  any  way.  We  should  simply  divide 
the  profits.  All  our  transactions  would  be  here  at 
your  house,  —  you  would  not  see  me  at  your  place  of 
business." 

"  Ho  !  T'en  you  are  ashamet  of  t'e  pusiness,  Mr. 
Varing  ? " 

"  You  are  aware,  Mr.  Vanbergen,  that  a  man  of 
my  position  —  "  He  hesitated,  unwilling  to  wound 
the  sensibilities  of  the  easy-tempered  merchant. 

"Ho!      I   unterstant  —  I   unterstant,"    Mr.   Van- 


64  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

bergen  interposed,  with  a  suspicion  of  irritation  in 
the  tone.  "You  are  a  gentleman,  and  gentlemans 
are  much  too  fine  for  trate.  Veil,  t'e  one  goot  t'ing 
apout  tarn  fools  is  t'at  t'ey  ton't  know  vat  tarn  fools 
t'ey  are." 

"  Mr.  Vanbergen  !  " 

"Oh,  you  can't  help  it!  I  ton't  plame  you; 
I  only  feel  sorry  ven  a  man  is  tam  fools,  t'at  is  all, 
Mr.  Varing.  It  is  not'ing  vat  you  t'ink  —  if  your 
money  haf  sense.  I  can  to  very  veil  vitout  you,  Mr. 
Varing,  if  I  haf  your  money." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  laughed,  self-restored  to  good- 
nature, and  in  the  course  of  the  next  half-hour  they 
had  come  to  an  understanding  that  put  them  on  very 
good  terms  the  one  with  the  other ;  and  at  the  end 
of  six  weeks  Mr.  Waring  had  formally  entered  into 
the  state  of  dormant  partner,  a  state  he  found  more 
and  more  to  his  liking  as  the  years  went  by  with 
gradually  increasing  returns  from  Mr.  Vanbergen' s 
ever  expanding  trade. 

And  these  years  of  plenty  were  those  in  the  course 
of  which  Wallace  Waring  advanced  from  Eton  to 
Oxford,  quit  Oxford  without  discredit  for  a  finishing 
tour  of  Europe,  played  ducks  and  drakes  with  his 
allowance  in  learning  the  follies  of  the  several  capi- 
tals, and,  finally,  with  undisguised  reluctance,  set 
sail  for  the  New  World  to  join  the  father  he  had 
seen  but  once  in  the  eight  or  ten  years. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  6$ 

"  In  sending  for  you,"  the  parent  had  written  in 
his  mandatory  letter,  "  I  am  governed  by  the  liveli- 
est concern  for  your  welfare.  You  are  now  at  an 
age  when  each  of  your  acts  must  be  considered  with 
reference  to  your  future,  and  I  hope  to  find  you  as 
much  concerned  for  the  brilliancy  as  I  have  been 
solicitous  for  the  material  solidity  of  that  future. 
You  have  been  taught  self-reliance  from  your  boy- 
hood, and  I  have  put  so  little  restraint  upon  your 
conduct  —  relying  entirely  for  good  results  upon  the 
perfect  trust  of  our  mutual  relations  —  that  I  have 
been  blamed  for  cultivating  in  you  a  prodigal  habit 
that  augured  ill  for  your  manhood.  I  need  not 
assure  you,  my  dear  Wallace,  that  I  am  both  proud 
and  thankful  to  find  myself  so  free  from  cause  to 
blame  the  indulgence  so  much  deplored  by  those  of 
our  family  who  should  have  known  to  judge  you 
better.  I  have  nothing  with  which  to  reproach  you. 
Even  your  'reckless  extravagances,'  so  invariably  a 
subject  of  reprobation  in  the  letters  of  your  Uncle 
Northcote,  have  been  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  me,  for 
I  have  argued  from  them  that  you  kept  yourself  in 
such  company  as  I  would  have  you  cultivate.  I  think 
it  the  part  of  a  gentleman  to  maintain  a  place  among 
his  social  equals  by  as  much  freedom  of  purse  as 
good  breeding  and  the  limits  of  his  fortune  will  per- 
mit. Tis  better  to  err  in  the  direction  of  excess 
than  toward  niggardliness,  for  the  one  is  a  fault  of 


66  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK:. 

judgment  that  may  be  rectified  with  advice;  the 
other  indicates  a  blemish  of  character  that  is  most 
certain  to  degenerate  into  a  vice. 

"  But  there  comes  a  time  when  a  luxurious  idle- 
ness must  indicate  a  want  of  ambition  and  betray  a 
moral  deficiency  which  makes  impossible  the  round- 
ing out  of  manly  honour.  Though  I  believe  you  to 
be  in  no  danger  from  dissipation,  and  that  you  would 
of  your  own  accord  presently  give  your  attention  to 
some  ennobling  occupation,  I  am  resolved  to  have  you 
with  me,  confident  that  the  opportunities  here  offered 
are  more  favourable  to  your  rapid  advancement  than 
those  you  are  like  to  find  in  your  native  city.  I 
have  some  plans  which,  if  you  will  lend  yourself  to 
them,  can  hardly  fail  to  secure  to  you  that  entrance 
into  the  social  and  political  life  of  this  community 
which  will  mean  more  to  you  in  a  few  years'  time 
than  any  dancing  attendance  upon  the  wearing  and 
wasting  possibilities  of  London  life.  Do  not  let 
your  aversion  to  what  you  term  'colonial  crude- 
ness  '  deceive  your  judgment.  My  word  for  it,  you 
will  have  much  reason  to  correct  your  prejudices. 

"  It  is  my  desire  that  you  sail  not  later  than  the 
end  of  April  or  beginning  of  May  of  the  coming 
spring,  and  if  the  enclosed  cheque  be  not  enough 
for  your  use  until  then,  you  know  that  my  London 
bankers  have  instructions  to  see  that  you  suffer  no 
ill  from  empty  pockets." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  6/ 

After  the  dutiful  manner  of  sons  who  have 
nothing  to  gain  by  disobedience,  Mr.  Wallace  War- 
ing set  about  putting  himself  in  readiness  to  conform 
to  orders,  making  such  privileged  use  of  his  remain- 
ing time  that  the  courtesy  of  the  city  bankers  had 
twice  to  be  invoked  before  he  took  coach  to  board 
his  sailing  vessel. 

The  young  gentleman  arrived  in  New  York  in 
time  to  sit  at  table  with  a  notable  gathering  of  the 
foremost  citizens,  met  for  the  masculine  celebration 
of  a  princely  birth,  or  some  equally  mighty  event. 
And  when  they  had  got  down  to  the  mahogany, 
there  began  such  a  drinking  of  ardent  punch  to  the 
toasting  of  every  sentiment  under  the  sun  that 
strangers  of  the  hour  vapoured  into  the  familiari- 
ties of  a  lifetime's  fellowship.  Before  the  last  cup 
was  drunk  and  the  last  pipe  was  broken,  Wallace 
had  exchanged  embraces  with  half  the  young  blades 
of  the  revel. 

This  experience,  the  events  and  incidents  of  the 
race,  and  a  pretty  party  at  Miss  Boylston's  the  night 
following,  made  Wallace  feel  himself  thoroughly  and 
not  disagreeably  initiated  into  the  life  of  the  com- 
munity which  destiny  had  appointed  to  his  residence. 
But  it  was  the  light  from  Luya  Vanbergen's  eyes 
which  dispelled  the  mists  of  old  world  longings  from 
his  mind  and  permitted  him  to  see  in  this  narrowly 
closed-in  town  the  Beulah  land  of  his  seeking. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

BETWEEN  a  willingness  to  oblige  his  father  to  a 
reasonable  extent,  and  an  inclination  to  please  him- 
self in  a  corresponding  degree,  Mr.  Wallace  Waring 
suffered  much  tribulation  of  mind  and  conscience 
in  the  course  of  the  weeks  immediately  succeeding 
the  "  great  race."  In  numerous  visits  to  the  family 
mansion,  he  had  found  Miss  Boylston  very  agreeable, 
in  spite  of  a  worldly  pride  that  occasionally  touched 
upon  arrogance  ;  and  he  could  not  deny  the  advan- 
tages she  might  give  to  a  domestic  establishment 
organised  according  to  the  general  rule  of  conve- 
nience. He  even  went  so  far  as  to  admit  to  himself 
that  he  might  not  have  found  it  difficult  to  adapt 
himself  to  the  situation  so  earnestly  contrived  by 
his  father,  if  his  ideas  had  not  been  confused  by  the 
twinkle  of  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  in  no  way  related  to 
Miss  Sophie  Boylston. 

"What    you    say,    sir,"    he   said,    in   one   of    tue 

conversations  with  his  father  on  the  subject,  "is  not 

to  be  disputed,  for  Miss  Boylston  is  well  worth  any 

man's  attention.     But  I  find,  for  all  that,  that   I 

68 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  69 

'have  no  sentiment  toward  the  lady  which  inclines 
me  to  marriage." 

"  Twaddle,  my  dear  Wallace.  Interest  is  the  first 
motive  to  a  sensible  marriage,  that  is,  the  marriage 
of  substantial  character  and  lasting  happiness,"  the 
elder  gentleman  urged.  "  Sentiment  is  very  well 
as  an  incident,  and  may  be  cultivated  at  your  leisure. 
But  judicious  selection,  with  your  judgment  clear, 
after  a  careful  consideration  of  relative  advantages, 
and  with  an  understanding  of  the  mutual  interests 
involved,  is  the  only  rational  course  in  marriage,  my 
boy.  The  sane  marriage  is  a  practical  result  of 
intelligent  calculation ;  and  the  love-in-a-cottage  sort 
of  thing  is  an  intemperance,  the  fantastic  prank  of 
a  fevered  brain.  If  you  begin  the  partnership  — 
marriage  should  be  a  partnership — with  an  equal 
investment  of  interests,  and  with  a  reciprocal  respect 
one  for  the  other,  you  lay  the  most  secure  founda- 
tion upon  which  marital  happiness  can  rear  itself, 
I  assure  you,  Wallace." 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  was  hardly  your  theory  when 
you  married  my  mother,"  Wallace  ventured,  smiling. 

A  shadow  of  old  grief  came  into  Mr.  Waring's 
eyes,  and  he  spoke  more  as  if  he  were  speaking  to 
himself  than  answering  his  son. 

"  I  thought  I  loved  your  mother,  and  married  her 
with  scarcely  a  pound  in  my  pocket.  She  was  one 
of  the  sweet  souls  of  the  world,  and  the  hardships 


70  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

never  took  the  gentleness  out  of  her  voice  nor  the* 
affection  out  of  her  heart.  But  in  the  three  years 
during  which  she  struggled  with  me,  I  learned  that 
I  had  never  loved  her,  that  I  had  only  gratified 
myself  in  marrying  her,  that  it  was  selfishness,  a 
cruel  selfishness  to  which  I  had  sacrificed  her  life, 
though  I  did  not  realise  it  all  until  I  knelt  by  her 
coffin  and  heard  her  child  cry  from  a  stranger's  arms 
in  the  other  room." 

There  was  a  little  unsteadiness  in  Mr.  Waring's 
voice,  and,  to  rid  himself  of  it,  he  rose  abruptly, 
traversing  the  room  as  he  said,  in  a  louder  tone, 
"  Money,  Wallace,  is  this  world's  god.  Money  and 
position  are  the  only  powers  that  can  unlock  the 
dungeon  of  greed  and  vanity  where  happiness  is 
prisoned.  Hold  by  them,  if  you  would  save  yourself 
from  an  old  age  of  reproach,  —  self-reproach  such  as 
I  have  suffered." 

"  I  believe,  sir,  that  something  may  be  got  out 
of  life  which  is  not  peddled  from  a  huckster's  cart." 

Mr.  Waring  impatiently  waved  his  hand  to  dis- 
pose of  the  conceit. 

"And  from  what  I  have  been  told,"  Wallace 
continued,  "  you  have  small  reason  to  advise  against 
the  dictates  of  the  heart.  They  say  no  woman  was 
happier  than  my  mother  during  the  time  she  was 
your  wife.  I  see  no  reason  you  have  to  reproach 
yourself." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  Jl 

Mr.  Waring  came  and  stood  in  front  of  the  chair 
in  which  Wallace  lounged.  There  was  a  certain 
sternness  in  his  face,  and  he  spoke  with  the  hard- 
ness of  an  upright  judge  passing  sentence  upon  an 
offender  who  merited  no  mercy. 

"  Your  mother  died  the  victim  of  poverty.  Years 
of  deprivation  had  undermined  her  vitality.  She 
had  not  the  strength  to  bring  my  child  into  the 
world  and  live.  She  was  a  martyr.  That  is  what 
an  improvident  marriage  means  for  a  woman.  Mar- 
tyrdom !  martyrdom  !  Love  with  empty  pockets  is 
the  most  brutally  selfish  vice  in  the  world." 

Wallace,  surprised  by  the  glimpse  into  the  morbid 
secret  of  his  father's  mind,  made  no  reply,  and  Mr. 
Waring  left  the  room  more  agitated  than  the  occa- 
sion seemed  to  justify.  Wallace  could  not  see  the 
application  of  his  father's  Sadducaic  theories  to  his 
own  case,  nor  find  in  them  an  argument  for  greater 
haste  to  arrange  with  Miss  Boylston.  Indeed,  by 
the  perverse  logic  of  the  natural  affections,  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  argument  was  a  con- 
vincing support  of  the  sentimental  rather  than  of  the 
rational  marriage ;  and  he  strolled  out,  going  instinc- 
tively in  the  direction  of  the  Parade,  with  thoughts 
of  Luya  Vanbergen  giving  form  and  colour  to  his 
fancies. 

Since  his  introduction  to  the  family  by  Jacob, 
Wallace  had  become  a  somewhat  frequent  visitor 


72  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK'. 

to  the  Vanbergens,  and  was  now  well  advanced  in 
the  good  graces  both  of  the  merchant  and  Mrs. 
Vanbergen,  who  thought  him  the  very  pattern  of 
a  proper  young  gentleman.  There  had  been,  too, 
an  appreciable  increase  of  intimacy  between  him  and 
Miss  Vanbergen;  but  in  just  the  degree  that  he 
found  his  sentiments  rounding  to  a  serious  purpose, 
worldly-mindedness  came  in  with  counsel  against  a 
rash  yielding  to  the  blind  impulses  of  the  heart. 

Journeyings  about  Europe  in  the  gilded  chariot  of 
folly  had  let  some  particles  of  cynical  dust  sift  into 
the  conceptions  of  the  sprightly  young  man,  and  it 
really  was  nothing  against  the  soundness  of  his  heart 
nor  the  manliness  of  his  principles  that  he  wavered 
for  a  time  between  two  choices,  uncertain  whether  to 
obey  the  voice  within,  or  yield  to  the  influence  from 
without.  He  was  too  much  a  man  of  the  world  to 
be  blind  to  the  fact  that  Miss  Boylston  was  better 
equipped  for  social  conquest  than  Miss  Vanbergen 
could  pretend  to  be,  and  he  was  not  without  a  sense 
of  the  woman's  importance  in  the  campaigns  of  man's 
ambition.  But  he  was  enough  a  creature  of  spirit  to 
perceive  that  the  affinity  of  mind  and  nature  is  a 
tremendous  engine  to  the  overcoming  of  most  ob- 
stacles in  the  highway  to  a  life  success,  —  if  by  life 
success,  he  meant  something  more  precious  than  the 
approving  cackle  of  the  multitude. 

So  Mr.  Wallace  Waring  continued  in  a  pleasant 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  73 

indecision  midway  between  the  factors  of  the  inter- 
esting problem,  being  in  no  sort  of  haste  to  arrive  at 
the  final  answer,  thus  giving  some  of  the  gossips 
good  reason  to  suspect  that  he  was  but  another 
of  the  showy  breed  of  triflers.  It  had  not  occurred 
to  him  that  the  solution  of  the  problem  might  be 
taken  out  of  his  hands  as  a  result  of  this  leisureli- 
ness.  He  viewed  the  goings  and  comings  of  other 
young  gentlemen  with  the  most  complacent  spirit 
imaginable,  wearing  the  frank,  indulgent  smile  of 
one  assured  of  his  superior  address,  whether  in  the 
art  of  picking  a  rose  or  pinking  a  rival,  if  one  should 
be  audacious  enough  to  set  up  as  his  rival.  Self- 
esteem  is  the  essence  of  mastery. 

Walking  toward  the  Parade,  with  the  balance  of 
his  mind  tilting  under  the  reflections  raised  by  the 
talk  with  his  father,  Wallace  was  roused  from  his 
reverie  by  the  voice  of  Miss  Boylston,  who  was  pass- 
ing in  her  chair,  and  put  her  head  out  at  the  window 
to  call  him,  laughingly. 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  are  you  so  distracted  from  the 
world  that  you  cannot  recognise  your  friends?  I 
vow  I  think  you  would  have  let  me  pass." 

Wallace  made  the  most  obsequious  flourish  with 
his  hat. 

"  Then  it  would  have  been  for  the  reason  that  I 
was  so  much  occupied  with  your  image  as  to  mistake 
it  for  yourself  in  person." 


74  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  If  you  would  have  me  believe  I  am  so  much  in 
your  mind,  you  must  have  care  to  keep  me  better 
in  your  view.  But  have  you  seen  Lieutenant  Willett 
this  morning  ? " 

"  I've  been  too  much  engaged  at  home,"  Wallace 
said,  lifting  her  fingers  to  his  lips,  the  chairmen 
having  set  down  their  burden. 

"Then  I  may  tell  you  for  myself  that  he  is  to  bid 
you  be  one  of  a  party  to  drive  to  the  East  River 
House,  on  Tuesday  morning,  where  we  are  to  meet 
for  a  fish  dinner.  I  think  you  have  not  yet  made 
acquaintance  with  that  resort  ? " 

"  No ;  though  I  am  advised  'tis  the  one  important 
thing  I  have  to  do  to  complete  my  initiation  into 
le  beati  monde.  Is  the  party  to  be  large  ?  " 

"A  half-dozen  or  eight,  at  most.  I  fixed  that 
limit  when  mamma  proposed  the  plan.  A  fete 
champetre  is  so  easily  spoiled  by  a  couple  too  many. 
Do  you  know  we  were  greatly  interested  in  conjec- 
turing whom  you  would  ask  ?  " 

"You  should  not  have  doubted  that  I  would 
ask  Miss  Boylston.  If  I  may  not  have  her  com- 
pany—" 

"La,  Mr.  Waring,  you  must  make  no  rash  re- 
solves, as  I  see  you  are  about  to  protest  you  will 
have  no  company  but  mine ;  but  Lieutenant  Willett 
took  the  precaution  to  allow  me  no  liberty  of  choice. 
'Twas  his  condition  of  taking  the  arrangements  in 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  75 

hand  that  I  go  with  him.  But  if  I  might  name  a 
substitute  for  myself,  you  would  not,  I'm  sure,  think 
Miss  Lynn  too  tedious  a  companion  ?  " 

"  Or  Miss  Vanbergen  ?  "  Wallace  ventured  to  sug- 
gest, without  betraying  the  preference. 

Miss  Boylston  raised  her  eyebrows  and  cast  down 
her  glance  in  that  fashion  of  polite  equivocation 
which  dissents  while  seeming  to  consider  a  question. 

"  Miss  Vanbergen  is  a  most  amiable  young  lady, 
but  one  sees  her  in  company  so  seldom  that  — " 
hesitating  and  looking  up  with  a  smile  that  was 
intended  to  clarify  the  negative  of  all  possible 
doubts. 

Wallace  did  not  follow  the  indication. 

"An  excellent  reason,"  he  said,  giving  an  argu- 
mentative twist  to  the  end  of  his  snug  moustache, 
"  why  one  should  wish  to  bring  her  more  into  view. 
It  were  a  pity  that  company  should  suffer  the  loss 
of  a  beauty  which  is  only  inferior  to  that  of  Miss 
Boylston  herself." 

"  You  wish  to  set  a  rival  against  me  ?  Or  have  you 
a  more  private  reason  for  your  interest  in  the  mer- 
chant's daughter  ?  I  hear  you  are  become  attentive 
there." 

"  Have  you  heard  whether  or  not  I  have  found 
encouragement  ? ". 

"  Gossip  has  not  yet  gone  so  far ;  when  it  takes 
that  turn  I  shall  think  you  in  some  danger." 


76  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  Are  blue  eyes  so  threatening  ? " 
"  I  believe  Mr.  Wilbruch's  eyes  are  gray." 
"  In  what  are  we  concerned  for  the  colour  of  Mr. 
Wilbruch's  eyes  ? " 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  I  think  you  are  better  qualified 
to  answer  the  question.  But  if  you  are  of  a  mind  to 
ask  Miss  Vanbergen  to  a  seat  in  your  chaise,  you 
would  do  well  to  consult  with  Mr.  Wilbruch  which 
road  you  shall  take." 

"  I  fear  I  do  not  quite  take  you,  Miss  Boylston." 
"  Oh,  if  you  find  me  enigmatical,  'tis  because  Miss 
Vanbergen's  charms  have  blinded  your  eyes.     But 
you  accept  the  invitation  for  Tuesday  ?  " 

"With  all  my  heart,  even  though  I  come  alone." 
"  I  think  it  well  you   should  not  do  that.     Odd 
numbers   are    most    confusing  —  at    a   fish   dinner, 
Mr.  Waring." 

Miss  Boylston  signalled  to  the  chairmen,  permitted 
Wallace  to  take  another  impress  of  her  finger-tips, 
and,  with  some  parting  pleasantries,  was  borne  away, 
smiling  to  herself  over  a  fancy  that  Wallace  had  not 
been  in  the  least  sensible  of  the  thrust  she  had  made 
in  Mr.  Wilbruch's  name. 

But  Miss  Boylston  was  mistaken.  She  had 
touched  home  so  sharply  that  Wallace  was  sud- 
denly aroused  to  a  vexing  consciousness  of  a  thou- 
sand trifles  light  as  air  which,  hitherto  ignored, 
swarmed  now  to  weigh  down  his  confidence.  Miss 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  ff 

Boylston,  desirous  merely  to  satisfy  her  own  doubts 
with  regard  to  the  trend  of  Wallace's  affections,  had 
succeeded  in  turning  the  balance  against  herself. 
She  had  dropped  the  germ  of  jealousy  into  his  mind, 
a  very  tiny  germ  to  be  sure,  but,  for  all  that,  weighty 
enough  to  excite  him  to  an  appreciation  of  the  nature 
of  his  sentiments  for  Luya  Vanbergen.  Affairs  were 
ranged  in  a  new  light,  and  he  reviewed  them  with  a 
clearer  perception  of  their  relations.  He  began  to 
have  an  uneasy  sense  of  what  it  means  to  waver  and 
hesitate  simply  because  one  has  an  alternative.  He 
had  debated  the  advantages  of  an  alliance  with  the 
Boylstons  until  it  had  seemed  to  him  that  policy  was 
quite  as  wise  a  leader  as  inclination,  and  he  thought 
it  might  not  be  a  surrender  of  too  much  sentiment 
were  he  to  yield  to  the  exigent  wishes  of  his  father. 
But  in  these  debates  the  self-esteem  which  is  at  once 
the  basis  and  the  danger  to  character  had  made  him 
forgetful  of  the  fact  that  attentions  are  offered  to 
young  ladies  as  well  as  to  young  gentlemen.  While 
hesitating  whether  to  throw  his  fortune  on  the  side 
of  interest  or  on  the  side  of  love,  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him  that  the  alternative  rather  than  the  choice 
would  be  forced  upon  him. 

Miss  Boylston  had  given  a  shock  to  his  self- 
esteem  in  quickening  his  perceptions,  and  as  he 
continued  his  walk  toward  the  Vanbergens  he 
thought  upon  the  new  situation.  The  first  proba- 


78  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

bility  recognised  was  Jacob  Wilbruch's  love  for  Luya 
Vanbergen. 

"  There  isn't  the  smallest  shadow  of  doubt  about 
it.  I've  been  an  ass  not  to  see  it  before.  The  fel- 
low worships  her!  And  not  without  reason,  I'll  be 
bound.  'Tis  a  guinea  to  a  sixpence  but  they  are 
lovers,  and  the  jade  may  have  been  laughing  at  my 
confounded  assurance,  donkey  that  I  am !  And 
if  she  loves  him  —  egad!  I'd  be  a  knave  to  come 
between  ;  though  why  a  slip  of  such  exquisite  fem- 
ininity should  be  in  love  with  such  a  huge  bulk  of 
unpolished  boorishness,  hang  me  if  I  can  imagine. 
She  is  a  most  damnably  non-committal  witch,  —  but, 
for  all  that,  she  has  a  freedom,  too,  that  is  more  than 
friendliness  toward  him,  —  yet  that's  not  conclusive. 
The  woman  who  hasn't  some  touch  of  the  coquette 
in  her  is  but  a  marionette  for  a  fool's  paradise.  Luya 
is  not  the  girl  to  wear  her  heart  on  her  sleeve  —  nor 
one  to  cry  her  love  to  let.  'Tis  true  old  Vanbergen 
has  told  me  he  hopes  to  see  Wilbruch  at  the  head  of 
the  business  one  fine  day  —  and  that  smacks  devilishly 
of  an  understanding.  But  old  Vanbergen' s  hopes 
need  not  be  the  oracle  of  his  daughter's  wishes,  for 
the  major  part  of  fathers  are  at  fault  in  affairs  of  the 
kind.  Wilbruch  is  an  honest  fellow  enough,  and  I 
have  been  half-minded  to  like  him,  but  I  think  my- 
self a  better  card  to  match  with  the  pretty  Luya. 
There's  but  one  course  for  it.  I'll  make  haste  to 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  79 

come  to  a  knowledge  of  Miss  Vanbergen's  mind.  If 
she  will  not  have  me —  Humph  !  That  was  a  very 
pretty  twist  that  Wilbruch  gave  to  Vinton  Spencer's 
sword." 


CHAFER   VII. 

JACOB  WILBRUCH  had  come  to  have  a  serious 
conference  with  Mr.  Vanbergen.  The  comfortable 
merchant  was  —  his  custom  ever  of  an  afternoon  — 
seated  on  his  front  stoop,  leisurely  smoking  to  the 
digestion  of  a  liberal  dinner,  well  washed  down  with 
Madeira.  He  was  at  the  finish  of  the  first  pipeful, 
and  between  his  plump,  large  palms  was  crumbling 
the  leaf  for  a  second  filling,  when  Jacob  came  into 
the  Parade  from  Beaver  Street.  Mr.  Vanbergen  was 
looking  in  the  direction,  watching  two  or  three  ships 
that  were  lazing  out  to  sea  under  a  full  spread  of 
limp  sail,  and,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  sturdy  young 
Anglo-Dutchman,  a  smile  of  satisfaction  rippled  over 
his  pudgy  lips,  and  he  raised  his  two  hands,  with  the 
tobacco  between  them,  to  signal  a  welcome.  Though 
Jacob  was  all  but  an  inmate  of  the  Vanbergen  house, 
and  never  failed  of  his  daily  call,  Mr.  Vanbergen 
always  seemed  to  regard  his  appearance  as  a  special 
event  meriting  a  marked  reception.  It  was  the  over- 
flow of  affection,  for  Jacob  was  as  an  elder  son  to 
the  merchant,  and  the  genial  old  fellow  had  a  con- 
viction, so  cherished  that  he  had  never  confided  it 
80 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  8 1 

even  to  Mrs.  Vanbergen,  that  Jacob  would  one  day 
reward  this  abundant  affection  by  making  him  a 
grandfather.  And  each  time  that  Jacob  came  to 
the  house,  Mr.  Vanbergen  believed  his  coming  to  be 
with  a  purpose  to  make  the  long-deferred  confession 
and  demand.  But  Jacob  seemed  to  have  the  sustain- 
ing patience  of  his  ancient  homonym,  and  his  days 
were  not  yet  fulfilled  ;  for  Jacob  had  set  himself  a 
task,  —  the  fitting  of  himself  to  be  worthy  of  her 
who  might,  God  willing,  wed  him. 

"  Ha !  Hendrik,  t'ere  is  Jacob,"  said  Mr.  Van- 
bergen, addressing  the  child  playing  below  the  stoop. 

Hendrik  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  toward  Jacob, 
who  held  a  small  basket  aloft  in  an  alluring  way. 

"Oh!"  cried  the  lad,  "and  he  has  brought  the 
pigeons,  as  he  promised  !  "  making  off,  in  an  ecstasy 
to  possess  the  coveted  treasure. 

Hendrik  had  read  the  story  of  a  hawk  that  carried 
a  message  to  the  saving  of  a  royal  lady's  life,  and  he 
had  yearned  with  a  child's  unreason  to  possess  a 
hawk,  —  so  many  royal  ladies'  lives  were  in  need  of 
saving. 

"Pigeons  are  better,"  Jacob  had  said.  "I'll  get 
you  some  pigeons." 

Hendrik  made  misery  for  Jacob,  by  demanding  each 
day  thereafter:  "When  will  the  pigeons  come?  I 
don't  believe  you  are  going  to  get  'em,  Jacob  !  "  And 
now,  at  the  end  of  the  second  week,  here  were  the 


82  Iff  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

pigeons,  and  Jacob  rose  from  the  level  of  a  ques- 
tioned integrity  to  the  plane  of  heroic  honour. 

Hendrik  rushed  off  with  his  prize  to  Luya,  —  for 
the  pigeons  could  not  be  quite  all  they  should  be 
until  Luya  had  gazed  on  them. 

Jacob,  be  it  known,  was  a  well-poised,  sturdy  fel- 
low, in  whom  the  Dutch  and  English  elements  of  his 
begetting  had  blended  rather  admirably.  Above  the 
middle  height,  he  had  a  muscular  squareness  to  go 
with  the  frank,  strong  face  which  only  wanted  a 
greater  liveliness  in  the  steel-gray  eyes,  and  a  little 
more  play  in  the  curves  of  the  firm,  full  lips,  to  be  as 
handsome  as  a  manly  face  has  any  need  to  be.  He 
was  not  by  any  means  the  unwieldy  bulk  of  Wallace 
Waring' s  imagining. 

Evert  nodded  as  Jacob  came  up  the  steps,  and, 
turning  toward  the  open  door  at  his  right,  called 
out : 

"  Luya ! " 

"  I  haven't  come  to  see  Luya,"  Jacob  protested, 
regretfully,  as  he  seated  himself  on  the  bench  beside 
Mr.  Vanbergen. 

"No?"  asked  Mr.  Vanbergen,  with  an  inflection 
of  the  most  mocking  contradiction. 

"  No,"  Jacob  responded,  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Oh,  veil,  you  can  talk.  I  unterstant  petter  ven 
Luya  is  listening,  too.  T'at's  my  vay." 

Luya  appeared  in  the  doorway,  her  hands  and  her 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  83 

neatly  rounded  arms  bare  to  the  elbow,  covered  with 
flour,  a  mischievous  patch  of  which  had  escaped  to 
her  cheek  when  she  had  pushed  back  a  loop  of  the 
light  brown  hair  from  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  Jacob,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  of 
familiar  greeting,  as  Jacob  rose  to  make  an  obeisance. 
"  Well,  you  see  what  I  am  doing.  This  is  baking 
day,  and  I  can't  waste  time.  Is  this  all  you  wanted, 
papa  ? " 

"  All  I  vanted  ?  Is  it  not  enough  ?  Jacob  is 
going  to  talk  to  me.  He  likes  to  haf  you  listen  ven 
he  talks.  I  haf  seen  t'at."  Mr.  Vanbergen  said 
this  with  a  chuckle,  making  thrusts  at  the  young 
people  with  his  pipe-stem  to  emphasise  the  humour. 

"  Papa  has  seen  more  than  I  have,  then,  Jacob,  for 
I've  never  found  you  eloquent.  But  if  you  want  to 
talk  where  I  can  hear  you,  you  must  come  into  the 
kitchen.  Cooks  have  no  business  on  front  doorsteps. 
If  you  come,  though,  you  must  have  care  to  keep 
that  fine  new  coat  well  out  of  the  way  of  this," 
making  a  pretence  of  shaking  upon  him  some  of  the 
flour  from  her  arms.  "  'Tis  vastly  becoming  to  you, 
and  quite  of  a  proper  pattern.  Decidedly,  you  are 
improving,  Jacob." 

She  returned  into  the  house,  laughingly,  without 
waiting  to  hear  if  he  had  anything  to  say  in  reply, 
very  well  divining  what  he  thought  of  the  picture 
she  made  standing  in  the  doorway.  Though  a 


84  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

taciturn  chap  in  the  main,  Jacob's  eyes  knew  how 
to  speak  one  language  very  well ;  and  he  never 
looked  upon  the  slender  grace  of  Luya's  deftly 
fashioned  figure,  or  into  the  clear  oval  face  set  in 
its  halo  of  rippling  hair,  or  felt  the  pretty  mockery 
of  her  smiling  lips  and  eyes,  without  turning  that 
language  into  a  thanksgiving  prayer  that  compli- 
mented Heaven  on  its  handiwork.  Strict  enough 
Lutheran  in  other  respects,  Jacob  was  pagan  in  his 
idolatry  of  Evert  Vanbergen's  daughter. 

"  Pretty  goot,  he,  Jacob  ? "  Evert  asked,  with  one 
of  his  most  expressive  chuckles,  and  pointing  .over 
his  shoulder  into  the  house  with  his  pipe. 

Jacob  again  seated  himself  on  the  bench,  nodding 
a  response  to  Evert. 

"  She's  going  to  make  a  fine  vifes  for  some  mans 
one  of  t'em  tays,  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Jacob  assented,  with  conviction. 

"Ja,  ja.  Luya  can  cook  almost  as  veil  as  her 
modder,  and  use  her  neetle  petter,  and  play  on  t'e 
spinet  like  a  teacher,  and  dance  like  a  fairies.  But 
petter  t'an  t'at,  Jacob,  Luya  haf  a  het  for  trate  as 
goot  as  any  mans  put  mine,  Jacob." 

It  was  one  of  Evert's  great  pleasures  to  consult 
and  advise  with  Luya  in  the  affairs  of  the  counting- 
house,  and  he  had  a  jovial  habit  of  boasting,  after 
each  fortunate  enterprise  or  shrewdly  managed  trans- 
action, that  the  success  came  of  his  obedience  to 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  85 

his  daughter's  instructions.  "  I  to  vat  she  tell  me, 
t'at's  all,"  and  the  chuckle  would  ripple  away  from 
the  surface  lips  to  lose  itself  echoingly  in  some 
recess  of  the  inner  man. 

Jacob  did  not  respond  for  some  moments  to  the 
eulogy  of  Luya's  domestic  and  mental  virtues,  but 
sat  back  on  the  bench,  one  arm  over  the  top,  as  if 
he  had  no  other  object  in  coming  to  the  house  than 
to  take  his  ease  on  the  stoop.  Evert  smoked  on  in 
silence,  peering  at  Jacob  through  half-closed  eyes, 
wondering  what  lay  behind  the  more  than  common 
seriousness  of  Jacob's  manner. 

Presently,  Luya  was  heard  singing  in  the  house 
the  fragment  of  a  ballad  having  to  do  with  a  noble 
lord  and  a  lowly  maid  who  had  "twined  their  two 
loves  together "  without  any  subsequent  regrets. 
If  there  was  not  much  art  in  the  ballad,  there  was 
a  compensating  musical  sweetness  in  the  voice,  and 
Jacob  cared  to  say  nothing  while  he  could  have  the 
tranquil  bliss  of  listening  to  that  song.  When 
Luya  sang,  he  seemed  to  go  back  to  a  summer  day 
of  his  boyhood  when  he  had  gone,  a  truant,  to  the 
big  fresh-water  pond  beyond  the  Boston  High  Road. 
He  had  stretched  himself  under  a  tree  with  his 
fishing-rod  held  between  his  feet,  and  was  building 
castles  in  the  drifting  hills  of  white  and  purple 
which  he  saw  through  the  tree-branches  above  him, 
when  a  vagrant  oriole  perched  in  the  tree-top,  and 


86  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

fell  to  piping  out  the  marvellous  notes  of  its  love 
song.  The  tropic  softness  of  the  bird's  voice  and 
the  shadowed  gold  of  its  plumes,  so  like  the  locks 
of  Luya's  hair  in  those  young  days,  got  so  tangled 
in  the  scheme  of  his  dream  that  when  the  bird, 
obeying  the  call  of  its  mate,  flew  suddenly  away, 
Jacob  felt  a  great  pain  in  his  heart.  He  thought 
what  it  would  mean  to  him  if  Luya  should  take  wing 
at  another's  call,  and  he  made  haste  back  to  the 
town  and  cried  out  to  the  child,  who  was  a 
playmate  then,  "  Come,  sing  to  me,  Luya."  And 
always  when  Luya  sang  in  these  later  days,  he 
thought  of  that  early  time,  and  smiled  at  that  early 
fear. 

"Veil,   Jacob,   vat    you    haf    to    tell    me?"    Mr. 
Vanbergen  asked,  after  the  long  pause. 

The  question  came  so  abruptly  upon  his  fancies 
that  Jacob  answered,  unguardedly : 

"  I  love  Luya." 

The  faintest  twinkle  of  satisfaction  in  Mr.  Van- 
bergen's   eyes  was  the  only  indication  of  the  fact 
that  the  father  had  waited  long  in  patient  expecta- 
tion of  this  avowal. 
»"  Ja,  I  know  t'at,  Jacob." 

"  I  want  her  for  my  wife." 

"  Ja,  I  know  t'at,  too,  Jacob." 

Some   moments  of   silence  passed,  during  which 
Evert   complacently   smoked,   and   Jacob   made   no 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  87 

other  movement  than  to  bring  his  hand  from  the 
back  of  the  bench  to  rest  on  his  knee. 

"  Then  it  is  agreed  ? "  Jacob  asked,  at  last. 

Evert  did  not  immediately  answer.  He  sent  up 
a  few  circles  of  smoke,  and  regarded  them  medita- 
tively as  they  coiled  and  twisted  into  nothing. 

"  Haf  you  tolt  Luya  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  am  not  ready  to  tell  her  yet." 

Evert's  eyebrows  lifted  in  the  least  perceptible 
degree  of  a  faint,  disapproving  surprise.  In  his 
opinion,  the  first  auditory  of  love  should  be  the 
sweetheart's  ear. 

"  You  hafn't  hat  some  talks  vit  her  ?  " 

"No." 

"  You  haf  neffer,  all  t'e  times,  tolt  her  t'at  you  lofe 
her  ? " 

"No;  there  hasn't  been  any  need  to  tell  her. 
She  knows  it  without  the  telling." 

"Oh,  ja,  t'at  is  so.  Vomens  knows  t'em  t'ings 
petter  as  ve  can  tell  t'em.  But,  on  t'e  o'ter  site, 
Jacob,  t'e  mens  neffer  know  vat  vomens  t'inks.  Haf 
Luya  tolt  you  t'at  she  lofes  you,  he,  Jacob  ? " 

"  Not  yet.  Time  enough  for  that  when  everything 
is  ready." 

Evert  shook  his  head  a  little  dubiously.  He  had 
no  doubt  that  the  state  of  Luya's  affections  was  at 
present  entirely  favourable  to  Jacob's  assumption, 
but  he  had  a  troublesome  consciousness  that  the 


88  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

young  female  mind  is  something  like  market  values, 
variable  to  circumstances  and  needing  to  be  dealt 
with  opportunely. 

"  You  know,  Jacob,  t'at  girls  ton't  wait  all  t'e  time. 
T'ere  is  ot'er  young  mens  t'at  come  t'is  way  more  as 
t'ey  used  to.  Nice  young  mens,  Jacob,  t'at  gif  t'em- 
selves  airs,  Jacob,  and  vears  sworts  py  t'eir  sites,  and 
make  pretty  speeches.  Luya  is  only  a  girls,  Jacob ! 
You  can't  plame  girls  if  t'ey  like  pirts  vit  fine  feat'ers, 
Jacob." 

"No,  I  can't  blame  them,  Mr.  Vanbergen,  and 
that  is  the  reason  I  am  not  ready  to  speak  to 
Luya." 

"  I  ton't  unterstant  you,  Jacob." 

"I  mean  that  Luya  ought  to  have  the  best  that 
can  be  offered  to  her."  Some  little  pride  of  purpose 
was  in  the  tone. 

"Ja,"  giving  a  very  emphatic  side  movement  to 
his  head,  "  I  t'ink  so  myself." 

"  I  am  not  as  fit  for  Luya  as  some  of  these  young 
English  gentlemen  —  " 

"Vat  you  say,  Jacob?"  Evert  exclaimed,  taking 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  the  better  to  point  his 
astonishment. 

"  I  am  not  as  fine  as  they  are ;  I  am  not  educated 
as  well ;  I'm  going  to  educate  myself  better." 

"Etucate  yourself  petter!  Vy,  Jacob,  you  haf 
more  education  now  t'an  you  neet  in  t'e  pusiness! 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  89 

Bonder !    A  merchant  ton't  neet  more  etucation  as 
you  haf,  Jacob  !  " 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  be  a  merchant.  I'm  going 
out  of  the  business.  I'm  going  to  the  college  in 
Massachusetts  for  a  year.  And  then  I'm  going  to 
make  a  surgeon  of  myself." 

Evert  had  thrown  back  his  head,  letting  the  pipe 
fall  from  his  lips  to  the  floor,  with  the  first  dum- 
founding  declaration  of  the  deliberate  Jacob,  and  he 
stared  in  pained  incredulity  at  the  resolute  young 
man  whose  guardian  he  had  been  for  fifteen  years, 
and  whom  he  had  thought  he  knew  as  thoroughly  as 
he  knew  himself.  He  gasped  : 

"  Not  going  to  pe  a  merchant,  Jacob !  " 
•  "  No ;  I  want  to  be  something  better." 

"  Fetter ! " 

If  Jacob  had  been  less  intent  on  the  idea  that  had 
formed  in  his  own  mind  during  a  fortnight  of  laboured 
thought,  he  would  have  been  penitently  touched  by 
the  pitiful  way  in  which  Vanbergen  uttered  this 
stifled  cry  of  reproach.  The  old  merchant  was 
wounded  to  the  heart  by  the  unconscious  thrust 
of  the  man  for  whom  he  entertained  a  proud  and 
paternal  affection.  He  bent  down  to  pick  up  the 
fragments  of  his  pipe  and  put  them  in  a  heap  on 
the  bench.  He  absently  pushed  his  finger  into  the 
bowl  and  tapped  with  it  on  the  oak  of  the  seat,  the 
beats  being  timed  with  those  in  his  breast,  perhaps. 


90  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

He  was  oppressed  and  uncertain.  He  had  lost  his 
bearings.  He  looked  toward  the  ships,  one  of  which 
had  disappeared  beyond  the  line  of  the  Fort,  and  the 
sun  was  on  the  weather-tempered  gray  of  the  sails 
like  sheets  of  pliant  gold,  proper  dressing  for  those 
stately  argosies  that  should  come  anon  from  the 
rich  Indies  with  new  testimony  to  the  dignity  of 
trade.  Gradually,  as  he  looked,  his  stunned  facul- 
ties reasserted  themselves.  Something  better  than 
being  a  merchant !  Ah  !  youth  is  not  the  season  of 
wisdom,  and  sensible  age  must  make  allowance  for 
the  rash  impulses  of  undisciplined  spirit.  Old  hearts 
may  suffer  the  pangs  of  an  ingratitude  that  does  not 
understand  itself,  but  time  avenges.  The  visionary 
legend  of  "Vanbergen  and  Wilbruch"  over  the  low 
door  of  the  counting-house  in  Dock  Street  was  broken 
in  pieces  like  the  slim  clay  pipe,  but  the  sea  was 
there  and  the  vessels.  There  had  been  a  dream 
once  before  of  "  Vanbergen  and  Son,"  and  the  first- 
born had  died  while  the  dream  was  making.  Dreams 
give  way  to  other  dreams,  but  trade  keeps  on.  As 
well,  then,  to  make  the  best  of  the  thing  that  is, 
forgetting  the  hope  that  was.  Having  thought  this 
out  by  a  slow  process  of  reasoning,  Evert  flung  the 
bowl  of  the  pipe  on  to  the  lawn  and  rose  to  his  feet, 
a  smile,  which  he  wished  to  make  cheerful  but  which 
was  only  forgivingly  compassionate,  shimmering 
about  his  lips. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  91 

"Veil,  Jacob,  your  money  is  in  my  business.  It 
has  been  t'ere  a  goot  many  years,  and  I  haf  neffer 
let  it  get  mixed  up  vit  o'ter  tings,  —  I  arrangt  vit 
Mr.  Varing,  —  it  has  tone  pretty  veil  in  t'e  pusiness, 
Jacob." 

"  And  there  I  mean  to  leave  it,  Mr.  Vanbergen." 

"No,  Jacob.  You  haf  peen  of  age  t'ese  sefen 
years,  but  I  haf  not  troupled  to  make  you  your  own 
masters,  because  I  peen  t'inking  of  you  all  t'em  times 
as  my  partners  ven  I  close  up  vit  Mr.  Varing.  But 
if  you  go  out  of  t'e  pusiness,  'tis  anot'er  t'ing.  Ven 
your  fat'er  tie,  he  say,  '  Evert,  I  leafe  you  fifteen 
huntert  pounts  for  my  poy  Jacob.  Use  it  for  him. 
Ven  he  is  a  mans,  gif  him  vat  is  left.'  Veil,  Jacob, 
I  haf  tone  my  best  —  " 

"You  have  been  my  father,"  Jacob  interrupted, 
earnestly,  at  the  same  time  rising  to  put  his  large 
hand  in  a  rough  caress  upon  Vanbergen's  shoulder. 

"Tank  you,  Jacob.  Veil,  t'ose  fifteen  huntert 
pounts  vas  just  fife  per  cent,  of  my  capitals.  I  put 
t'em  in  te  pusiness.  Effery  year  I  set  fife  per  cent, 
of  t'e  profits  to  your  cretit.  At  first,  it  vas  not  much, 
and  you  cost  me  more  as  I  earned,"  giving  Jacob  a 
nudge  with  his  elbow,  to  lend  a  jocular  turn  to  the 
practical  exactness  of  the  statement,  "  put,  t'at  came 
out  all  right  in  t'e  ent.  To-morrow,  Jacob,  ve  vill  go 
ofer  t'e  pooks  toget'er,  and  make  t'e  settlement." 

"  I    don't   want   a    settlement.     I    wish    to    leave 


£2  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

matters  as  they  are.  I  want  you  to  use  my  money 
for  me  —  " 

"  Ve  vill  talk  of  t'at  after  t'e  settlement,  for  you 
see,  Jacob,"  and  Vanbergen  was  not  as  merry  as  his 
manner  would  have  made  Jacob  believe,  "  as  you  are 
going  out  of  t'e  pusiness,  as  ve  are  not  going  to  pe 
partners  some  more,  ve  must  close  t'e  pusiness  rela- 
tions as  pusiness  mens  vould  to.  I  vill  gif  you  a 
cheque  for  your  share,  and  you  can  put  it  in  Mr. 
Boylston's  pank,  or  you. can  puy  lant  mit  it,  —  unless 
you  t'ink  t'e  farm  your  fat'er  left  is  lant  enough. 
Put  I  belief  in  lant,  Jacob." 

Evert  confessed  this  belief  impressively,  and,  re- 
ducing his  voice  to  a  confidential  murmur,  held 
Jacob  by  the  lapel  of  his  coat  as  he  added,  "  Lant 
is  too  cheap  for  t'e  way  New  York  is  growing. 
Tvill  pay  a  goot  interest  on  t'e  investment  in  t'e 
next  ten  years.  T'ink  apout  it." 

He  drew  from  his  generous  fob  the  great  dialed 
Dutch  watch,  —  which  was  a  precious  heritage  from 
Grandfather  Claes,  —  and  looked  at  the  time. 

"Two  o'clock  lacking  ten  minutes.  T'ere's  some 
meetings  at  t'e  Exchange.  I  must  go.  You  vill 
see  Luya? " 

"Yes." 

"  And  get  her  promise  ? " 

"No,  I  don't  want  any  promise  until  I  can  be 
more  worthy  of  it." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  93 

"  You  make  mistakes,  Jacob.  Girls  ton't  fint  out 
t'eir  own  mints  sometimes  unless  somepoty  tells 
t'em." 

"  Luya  knows  her  mind." 

"Ja,  I  t'ink  so.  Put  vhile  you  are  getting  reaty 
to  pe  vorty  of  her,  pe  careful  t'at  somepoty  else  ton't 
come  along  who  von't  pe  so  particular."  The  diffi- 
culty he  had  with  the  last  word  awakened  Mr.  Van- 
bergen's  sense  of  the  comical.  He  gave  Jacob  a 
good-natured  thrust  in  the  side  with  his  chubby 
thumb  as  they  entered  the  house  together. 

Had  Jacob  looked  over  his  shoulder,  he  would 
have  seen  Wallace  Waring,  just  parted  from  Miss 
Boylston  and  with  his  mind  made  up  to  a  talk  with 
Miss  Vanbergen,  crossing  the  Parade  to  the  house. 
But  that  would  hardly  have  made  any  difference  in 
his  opinion  of  Mr.  Vanbergen's  sage  caution.  He 
had  no  fear  of  losing  Luya.  His  love  for  her  was 
not  a  sentiment  to  admit  of  wavering,  nor  was  it  a 
passion  to  sway  and  toss  his  soul  into  disorder;  it 
was  as  the  motive  and  reason  of  his  being,  as  inde- 
structible, as  unchangeable,  and  as  even  as  the  essen- 
tial life  within  him  ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
delicate  creature  he  reverenced  in  this  complete 
spirit  could  not  be  other  than  his,  being  so  much 
an  element  of  himself. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THOUGH  the  merchant  class  was  coming  —  indeed, 
had  come  —  into  a  certain  social  dignity,  owing  to 
the  authority  of  its  numbers,  and  the  increasing  influ- 
ence of  its  wealth,  there  was  still  a  well-defined  line 
of  separation  between  it  and  the  divinely  ordered 
world  which  did  not  live  by  trade.  It  is  necessary 
to  confess,  therefore,  that  Miss  Luya  Vanbergen  had 
never  been  identified  with  the  brilliant  circle  which 
held  its  grand  receptions  at  the  Fort,  or  gave  its 
splendid  balls  at  the  Black  Horse  Tavern.  But 
there  was  one  circumstance  in  her  favour  that  miti- 
gated in  an  appreciated  degree  the  natural  inferiority 
of  her  social  rank  and  secured  her  some  of  the 
advantages  of  the  gay  life  about  her.  Her  mother 
was  an  English  woman  of  good  family,  a  very  poor 
family,  to  be  sure,  but  which,  once  upon  a  time,  had 
had  a  few  fat  acres  and  a  bellicose  crest.  Mrs. 
Vanbergen's  father  had  come  to  New  York  with  his 
bride,  to  try,  in  a  hazard  with  growing  fortunes,  to 
better  his  lot,  and  had  put  his  talents  to  the  service 
of  the  community  by  teaching  the  young  ideas  how 
to  shoot  at  wisdom.  What  he  might  have  done  for 

94 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  95 

his  daughter,  had  he  chosen  to  live  until  she  had 
come  to  the  marriageable  age,  can  only  be  a  matter 
of  vain  imagining.  The  fact  is  that  he  died  when 
she  was  comparatively  young,  and  the  widow,  to 
keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  turned  the  modest 
home  into  a  boarding-house.  Former  friends  con- 
tinued to  be  as  kind  and  indulgent  as  the  conditions 
permitted  them  to  be,  but  the  most  generous-minded 
person  in  the  world  must  recognise  how  great  a  dif- 
ference there  is  between  the  reduced  gentility  that 
lives  by  the  charge  of  a  school,  and  the  ditto  which 
subsists  by  the  economies  of  a  boarding-house.  So 
it  came  about,  in  the  rational  sequence  of  events, 
that  Evert  Vanbergen,  the  sleek,  good-natured  young 
merchant,  rather  than  one  of  the  dashing  blades  of 
the  gentry,  should  marry  the  widow's  comely  and 
domestic  daughter.  But  the  irrefutable  fact  that 
Miss  Luya  Vanbergen  was  the  granddaughter  of  a 
scholarly  gentleman,  and  the  great-grandniece  of 
a  certain  Sir  Something-or-other,  who  had  run  his 
sword  through  a  good  many  of  his  country's  ene- 
mies, softened,  in  a  measure,  the  reproach  that  neces- 
sarily attached  to  her  as  the  daughter  of  a  man  in 
trade,  and  a  Dutchman  in  trade,  at  that. 

It  was  the  irritating  consciousness  that  her  beauty, 
her  accomplishments,  her  agreeable  vivacity  of  spirit, 
and  her  respectable  qualities  of  mind  (for  Miss  Van- 
bergen had  more  than  once  made  the  inventory  of 


96  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

her  possessions)  could  not  entirely  beat  down  a  fan- 
tastic social  prejudice  that  induced  the  young  lady  to 
decline  more  than  one  invitation  she  would  otherwise 
have  accepted  most  joyfully.  Last  January  she  had 
returned  a  negative  answer  to  Mr.  Allen  Bradford's 
deferential  note  asking  her  company  to  the  great 
ball  given  in  honour  of  the  prince's  birthday,  and 
had  wept  through  the  night  in  bitter  repentance  of 
her  foolish  pride.  The  chief  determining  cause 
of  her  self-sacrificing  obstinacy  was  the  humiliating 
memory  of  the  smile  with  which  Miss  Sophie  Boyls- 
ton  had  said,  "  La,  I  think  it  is  Miss  Vanbergen !  " 
when  they  met  in  the  minuet  at  one  of  the  fort- 
nightly assemblies  of  the  elite,  at  Mr.  Todd's  tavern. 
Miss  Vanbergen  would  have  been  extremely  rejoiced 
to  call  Miss  Boylston  out,  if  the  code  had  permitted 
it,  and  she  had  not  been  at  all  satisfied  merely  to 
reply  with  an  amiable  commonplace  about  the  days 
when  they  were  intimate  as  schoolgirls.  She  carried 
her  head  as  well,  and  could  say  a  malicious  thing  as 
sweetly,  as  Miss  Boylston  herself ;  and,  instructed  by 
this  first  unexpected  humiliation,  she  never  doubted 
that  she  came  from  their  occasional  after-encounters 
with  her  full  share  of  personal  success,  but  her  heart 
was  always  in  rebellion  against  the  polite  condescen- 
sion which  seemed  to  her  an  insolence,  the  less  en- 
durable for  the  efforts  the  young  gentlemen  made  to 
discountenance  it.  For  this  reason,  Miss  Vanbergen 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  97 

was  less  in  society  than  she  might  have  been,  for 
there  were  young  gentlemen  who  thought  her  beauty 
and  grace  justified  them  in  forgetting  her  father's 
hopeless  immersion  in  trade,  and  the  infrequence  of 
her  appearance  in  the  fashionable  gatherings  was 
due  to  a  feeling  akin  to  that  which  kept  Achilles  in 
his  tent,  though  there  was  nothing  of  sulkiness 
in  her  candid  and  sunny  temper. 

When,  therefore,  Wallace  Waring  invited  her  to 
go  with  him  to  the  fish  dinner,  and  had  named  Miss 
Boylston  in  connection  with  it,  Miss  Vanbergen  pro- 
ceeded to  point  out,  with  the  prettiest  possible  air  of 
despair,  that,  of  all  days  in  the  coming  week,  Tuesday 
was  the  one  most  heavily  freighted  with  cares  which 
she  only  could  discharge. 

"I  must  say,  Luya,  I  know  of  nothing  so  very 
pressing,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen  interposed,  in  gentle  re- 
monstrance. "I  am  sure  Marta  and  I  can  do  all 
that  —  " 

"My  dear  mamma,"  Luya  interrupted,  making  a 
gesture  of  repressive  authority,  "you  really  should 
not  try  to  make  it  appear  that  my  duties  may  easily 
be  given  over  to  some  one  else.  I  assure  you,  Mr. 
Waring,  I  am  a  much  more  important  member  of 
the  household  than  mamma  would  like  to  have  you 
imagine.  But  I  was  not  thinking  altogether  of 
house  cares,  mamma.  There  are  dozens  of  things 
I  have  to  do,  besides." 


98  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

"Then  take  me  into  your  service,"  Wallace  pro- 
posed. "  You  will  find  me  an  energetic  assistant,  I 
dare  engage ;  and  I  think  between  us  we  can  make 
several  of  the  dozens  get  out  of  the  way  in  time  to 
allow  of  our  getting  a  morsel  of  fish  before  'tis  cold." 

"Bless  me,  Mr.  Waring,  do  you  indeed  flatter 
yourself  that  you  have  learned  to  be  useful?" 

"  Put  me  to  the  experiment.  I  think  the  willing- 
ness to  oblige  will  instruct  me  how." 

"That  does  not  by  any  means  follow.  For  ex- 
ample, I  might  wish  to  have  you  carry  parcels."  She 
sent  a  roving  glance  from  top  to  toe  of  his  fastidi- 
ously fashionable  dress,  perhaps  not  omitting  to 
observe  that  the  figure  so  elegantly  outlined  had 
nothing  feminine  in  its  trim  proportions.  Miss 
Vanbergen  seemed  to  be  much  amused  by  the  idea  of 
putting  this  young  gentleman  to  such  plebeian  uses. 

Mrs.  Vanbergen,  whose  sense  of  humour  did  not 
extend  to  a  trifling  with  social  proprieties,  hastened 
to  say,  quite  seriously  : 

"But  Luya  could  never  think  of  anything  so 
ridiculous,  Mr.  Waring." 

"  But  I  should  not  think  anything  ridiculous  that 
Miss  Vanbergen  might  propose,"  Wallace  declared, 
with  an  apologetic  bow  to  Mrs.  Vanbergen,  "  and  I 
will  carry  parcels  for  you,  Miss  Vanbergen,  with  as 
much  satisfaction  as  I  would  hand  you  into  a  chaise, 
if  it  be  your  pleasure." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  99 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  I've  half  a  mind  to  try  you. 
'Twould  give  your  friends  some  ground  to  laugh  at 
you." 

"  That  would  be  at  their  peril,  without  detracting 
from  my  pleasure  in  the  service." 

"  Nothing  can  make  me  believe  you  would  do  it." 

"  Try  me." 

"  Don't  tempt  her,  Mr.  Waring,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
said,  rising  and  going  toward  the  door ;  "  she  is  wilful 
enough  to  impose  upon  your  good  nature.  I  think, 
Luya,  you  can  do  no  better  than  accept  Mr.  Waring's 
invitation."  She  excused  herself,  on  the  ground  that 
she  heard  Hendrik  calling,  and  went  out  of  the 
room. 

Mr.  Waring,  who  had  risen  to  bow  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
out,  turned  promptly  to  Luya  the  moment  they  were 
alone,  and  addressed  her  with  much  earnestness. 

"  I  have  a  reason  for  wanting  you  to  go  with  me 
on  Tuesday." 

"  And  I  have  a  reason  —  several  reasons  for  declin- 
ing to  go,"  she  replied,  with  a  mocking  imitation  of 
his  tone. 

"  Is  it  the  same  reason  you  have  had  for  declining 
other  of  my  invitations  ? " 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said,  struck  by  an 
indefinable  something  in  his  manner.  "Is  it  usual 
to  demand  reasons  of  a  young  lady  why  she  does  or 
does  not  do  thus  and  so  ?  " 


IOO  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  Yes,  if  the  reason  is  supposed  to  be  of  a  particular 
sort." 

He  looked  rather  impudently  questioning,  this 
young  man  who  had  suddenly  become  so  mighty 
serious  without  any  cause  of  which  she  was  aware. 
"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Waring,  if  you  glare  at  me 
in  that  tragic  fashion,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  keep  my 
gravity  !  Is  it  a  thing  of  such  fatal  importance  that  I 
have  no  appetite  for  fish  ? " 

"  I  am  not  jesting,  Miss  Vanbergen.  I  want  to 
know  the  real  reason  why  you  refuse  me.  Is  it 
because  some  one  else  has  a  better  right  to  your 
company  ? " 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  whatever  are  you  thinking  of  ? 
Who  would  have  thought  a  trifle  of  this  kind  could 
drive  a  gentleman  out  of  his  senses  !  In  pity  of  your- 
self, Mr.  Waring,  go  at  once  to  seek  a  cure  of  some 
young  lady  who  knows  better  than  I  how  to  value  a 
favour." 

"  I  will,  if  you  will  answer  me  a  question." 
"Then  be  quick  with  the  question,  for  I  see  the 
peril  grows." 

"Mr.  Wilbruch  has  just  left  you." 
"  Yes,  yes ;  you  saw  him  go,  did  you  not  ? " 
"  But  not  until  after  he  had  talked  alone  with  you." 
"That  was  most  extraordinary,  indeed,  Mr.  War- 
ing !    I  marvel  myself  that  he  could  go  after  a  talk 
alone  with  me." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  IOI 

"You  are  pleased  to  treat  me  lightly,  Miss  Van- 
bergen." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  be  glad  to  take  you 
seriously,  if  you  would  give  me  leave  to  understand 
you." 

"  Mr.  Wilbruch  is  going  away." 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  you  seem  much  occupied  to 
tell  me  things  I  know  quite  well  enough." 

"  Does  Mr.  Wilbruch  take  a  promise  with  him  ? " 

"  Ah !  now  you  have  asked  your  question ;  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  you  have  addressed  it  to  the 
wrong  person.  You  should  put  that  question  to 
Mr.  Wilbruch  himself." 

"  You  can  answer  it  as  well." 

"  No,  —  I  am  not  so  gifted  —  I  can't  read  minds 
—  can  you  ?  " 

"Do  you  mean  —  do  you  tell  me  —  " 

Wallace  abandoned  his  dignity,  and,  by  way  of 
completing  his  sentence,  impetuously  advanced  to 
seize  upon  Luya's  hand,  to  the  apparent  alarm  of 
that  young  lady,  who  sprang  away  from  him  with 
the  cry : 

"  Good  heaven !  Mr.  Waring,  will  you  carry  your 
resentment  into  violence  ? " 

But  Wallace  pursued  the  retreat  and  succeeded 
in  imprisoning  her,  notwithstanding  some  little  inco- 
herencies  of  protest. 

"  Don't  pretend  not  to  understand,"  he  said.     "  I 


IO2  Iff  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

love  you !  Don't  deny  that  you  have  known  it  from 
the  first  day  I  met  you.  I  love  you.  Tell  me  that 
I  have  the  right  to  love  you,  —  confess  that  you  love 
me !  Luya !  Answer  me.  Be  my  wife.  Give  me 
your  promise." 

She  held  her  face  away  from  him,  trying  to 
release  herself,  begging  to  be  let  go,  each  feeble 
effort  and  each  tremulous  plea  being  an  unconscious 
admission  of  the  sentiment  her  lips  disclaimed. 

"Answer  me,  then.  I  shall  not  let  you  go  until 
you  have  answered  me." 

"  I  have  answered  you,"  she  said,  her  voice  falter- 
ing over  the  words,  as  if  to  keep  back  a  sob.  "  I  have 
answered  you,  and  you  will  not  understand.  It  is 
ungenerous  of  you  to  hold  me  against  my  will." 

"  It  is  because  I  know  your  heart  is  not  in  your 
words,  —  it  is  because  I  know  that  you  love  me.  Say 
it,  —  say  it !  " 

"  You  are  cruel,"  she  said,  the  tears  coming  now, 
and  her  will  no  longer  resisting. 

He  drew  her  head  to  his  breast  and  kissed  her 
lips,  murmuring  those  impenitent  self-reproaches  with 
which  lovers  justify  the  tyrannies  they  delight  in. 

She  checked  her  tears  after  a  time,  and  he  half 
released  her,  still  caressing  her  with  words  and  lin- 
gering touches,  and  wondering  at  the  strangeness 
of  her  mood  which  was  at  once  so  yielding  and  so 
unresponsive. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  103 

"  I  never  intended  that  this  should  happen,"  she 
said,  still  in  the  low  tone  but  with  some  return  of 
composure,  even  a  faint  smile  playing  at  her  lips. 
"  Indeed,  I  hardly  thought  you  cared  to  have  it 
happen.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  told  me.  I 
should  not  have  let  you,  if  you  had  not  taken  me  by 
surprise." 

"  You  would  have  me  think  that  you  do  not  care 
for  me  ? "  he  asked,  playfully,  and  with  the  satisfied 
air  of  one  who  knows  his  advantage. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  care  for  you,"  she  answered ;  "  there 
is  no  need  to  deny  that  I  love  you,  for  I  do  love 
you  —  " 

"Then  why  are  you  sorry  that  I  have  told  you 
of  my  love  ? " 

"  Because  I  cannot  be  your  wife." 

He  stepped  back,  regarding  her  to  see  if  this  were 
earnest  or  but  a  revival  of  her  mischievous  spirit. 
The  moist  blue  eyes  were  sadly  serious. 

"  Why  can't  you  be  my  wife  ? " 

"  For  the  reason  that  your  father  would  never 
consent  to  your  marrying  me." 

Good-humoured  assurance  came  back  to  Wallace 
with  a  rush  of  merry  laughter. 

"  My  father  would  not  consent !  "  he  cried,  reach- 
ing out  to  take  hold  upon  her  two  shoulders  and 
square  her  round,  as  one  does  a  child  when  it  needs 
a  little  chaffing  to  clear  away  its  pouts.  "If  you 


IO4  Iff  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

have  no  better  reason  than  that,  Miss  Vanbergen, 
for  refusing  to  let  me  take  tribute  from  your  lips, 
then  I  make  bold  to  claim  my  rights.  My  father's 
consent !  If  I  were  not  the  most  reverent  son  in 
the  world  I  should  tell  you  that  my  will  is  my  father's 
pleasure.  Should  I  cry  for  the  moon,  he  would 
equip  an  expedition  to  fetch  it  for  me,  —  and  I  am 
not  unreasonable  in  my  demands  only  because  he  is 
so  obliging  in  anticipating  my  wishes.  Ah,  Luya, 
Luya,  your  consent  shall  be  my  father's  compulsion. 
Say  the  word,  say  yes,  and  I'll  be  impudent  enough 
to  mistake  the  dinner  up  the  river  for  our  betrothal 
feast,  and  every  one  at  table  shall  drink  bumpers  to 
our  union.  My  Luya  !  my  wife  that  is  to  be  !  Come ; 
we'll  go  to  your  mother  as  the  first  to  receive  our 
confidence."  Wallace  took  her  hand  and  made  a 
movement  toward  the  door. 

But  Luya's  often  debated  misgivings  returned 
upon  her,  more  besettingly  and  more  dismayingly 
than  ever,  now  that  she  had  dared  to  fling 
down  the  challenge  to  her  fate.  She  held  Wallace 
back. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  urged,  with  so  much  earnestness 
that  he  listened  to  her  objections  without  so  much 
as  smiling  at  them.  She  had  seen  far  into  the 
character  of  Mr.  Stephen  Waring  in  the  weekly 
visits  he  had  made  to  her  father's  house  during  the 
years  of  the  silent  partnership.  She  knew  the  pride 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  105 

and  the  prejudice  by  which  his  straightforward 
nature  was  turned  askew.  She  had  heard  something 
of  the  ambitious  plans  he  cherished  in  his  son's 
behalf ;  and  she  knew,  too,  that  Mr.  Stephen  Waring 
so  detested  "trade"  —  even  though  it  was  the 
means  by  which  his  future  was  building  —  that,  in 
all  the  years  of  his  association  with  her  father, 
the  public  had  never  once  been  taken  into  the 
secret  of  the  partnership.  His  prejudices  were  all 
the  more  stubborn  for  their  unreasonableness,  and 
Luya  felt  a  certainty  that  Mr.  Stephen  Waring  would 
never  consent  to  a  marriage  between  his  son  and 
the  daughter  of  the  "partner"  he  had  so  long 
socially  condemned. 

"  But  what  if  he  should  not  consent ! "  Wallace 
exclaimed,  at  the  end  of  her  declaration  of  fears. 
"  That  would  be  no  obstacle  to  our  marriage." 

"The  greatest,"  replied  Luya.  "I  would  die  an 
old  maid  rather  than  marry  to  the  estrangement  of  a 
son  and  his  father." 

"  Estrangement !  My  dear  Luya,  when  you  know 
my  father  better  you  will  vow  you  never  entertained 
your  present  opinion  of  him." 

"  Then  my  doubts  may  be  easily  dispelled.  But, 
until  you  have  gained  your  father's  consent,  no  one, 
—  you  promise  ?  —  no  one  must  know  that  you  and 
I  have  —  well,  said  anything  to  each  other.  You 
promise  ? " 


106  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Yes,  I  promise." 

"  And  you  will  keep  the  promise  faithfully  —  with- 
out any  exception  ? " 

"  Faithfully,  and  without  any  exception,  —  but  that 
will  hardly  be  a  test  of  my  reticence,  for  I  won't  have 
to  keep  silence  long." 

That  evening,  instead  of  going  for  his  usual  play 
at  the  tavern,  the  various  tavern  parlours  being  the 
club-rooms,  as  well  as  the  gaming  centres  of  the  time, 
Wallace  remained  at  home  for  the  double  object  of 
transmuting  some  teeming  thoughts  into  a  halting 
sort  of  verse,  and  of  having  a  particular  talk  with  his 
father.  After  the  verses  had  been  conducted  reso- 
lutely to  a  finish,  in  spite  of  the  reluctance  of  "  win- 
ning "  to  rhyme  with  "  shining,"  Wallace  went  down 
into  the  library,  where  Mr.  Waring  sat  absorbed  in 
the  news  of  the  papers,  only  two  months  old,  arrived 
in  the  afternoon  from  London. 

Made  cautious,  perhaps,  by  Luya's  apprehensions, 
Wallace  approached  his  subject  warily,  in  a  round- 
about talk  on  a  multitude  of  things,  and  ended  by 
stating  an  entirely  supposititious  case. 

"  Misalliances,  my  dear  Wallace,"  Mr.  Waring  be- 
gan, oracularly,  taking  his  spectacles  from  his  eyes, 
and  carefully  polishing  the  crystals  with  his  silk 
handkerchief,  "  are  styled  mauvaises  alliances  by  our 
French  instructors,  and  bad  matches  they  are.  In 
the  case  you  put,  the  man  must  be  either  a  fool  or 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  IO/ 

a  knave,  —  for  no  honest  man  in  his  right  senses 
would  ever  contract  a  marriage  for  which  his  rela- 
tives would  have  to  blush  or  make  excuses.  I  might 
argue  the  matter  at  length  if  I  thought  you  were  in 
need  of  being  convinced.  I  do  you  the  credit  to 
assume  that  your  own  opinions  and  mine  are  at 
one  on  the  subject  of  what  a  gentleman  owes  to 
himself." 

"  But  suppose,  merely  for  the  sake  of  the  argu- 
ment," Wallace  ventured,  settling  himself  a  little 
more  easily  in  his  chair  to  prepare  for  the  final 
assault,  "suppose  our  minds  were  not  wholly  in 
accord?  To  put  the  matter  in  a  nutshell,  sup- 
pose I  were  myself  in  a  similar  situation  to  that 
I  have  suggested  —  and  that  I  should  come  to 
you  —  " 

"  My  dear  Wallace,  some  things  are  too  extravagant 
to  be  reasonably  supposed.  But,  were  you  in  that 
case,  there  would  be  no  argument  between  us.  I 
should  answer,  without  argument,  in  the  fewest  words 
possible.  I  should  say,  <  I  will  never  give  my  consent 
to  such  an  arrangement.  If  you  marry  in  opposition 
to  my  wishes,  I  shall  from  that  moment  cease  to  have 
a  son.'  But,  my  dear  Wallace,  I  do  not  fear  that 
the  love  I  have  for  you  will  ever  be  put  to  so  severe 
and  unnatural  a  trial.  We  need  not  trouble  our- 
selves with  the  follies  of  others.  By  the  way,  here 
is  some  interesting  matter  about  young  Pitt's  last 


IO8  IN  OLD   NEW  YORK. 

speech  which  you  may  care  to  read.     I  find  this  lot 
of  papers  uncommonly  newsy." 

Wallace   added    another    half-dozen   lines  to   his 
verses  before  he  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Miss  VANBERGEN  had  some  flutterings  of  virginal 
pride,  caused  by  the  fear  that  she  had  much  too 
readily  let  her  heart  fall  into  the  possession  of  a 
man  whose  father  was  likely  to  set  too  light  a  value 
on  it.  She  reproached  herself  with  feebleness  in 
having  surrendered  at  the  very  first  assault.  If  it 
were  to  do  over  again,  she  felt  sure  that  she  should 
say  to  Mr.  Wallace  Waring  : 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  but  this  is  a  subject  I  cannot 
discuss  with  you  until  your  father  has  asked  my 
father  to  give  you  leave  to  sound  my  mind.  I  have 
thought  the  matter  over  most  carefully,  and  I  am 
resolved  upon  this  point." 

Yet,  in  the  very  midst  of  her  self -censuring,  she 
breathed  a  sigh  of  thankfulness  that  the  thing  was 
not  to  do  over  again ;  and  when,  in  the  course  of  the 
next  day,  a  wide-grinning  negro  servant  came  with 
the  heavily  sealed  verses  which  Wallace  had  erected 
to  her  worship,  she  had  a  half-hour  of  tumultuous 
folly,  and  thought  nothing  could  content  her  soul  but 
the  singing  of  hosannas  from  the  housetop.  But, 
coming  after  numerous  readings  to  a  less  ecstatic 
109 


HO  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

appreciation  of  the  final  lines,  she  began  to  have 
doubts  if  the  assured  tone  of  the  initial  verses  was 
warranted  by  facts.  The  more  critically  she  read 
them,  the  more  provokingly  certain  she  became  that 
the  paternal  Waring  was  in  no  sense  a  party  to  this 
rhymed  declaration  of  eternal  devotion.  Therefore, 
in  replying  to  the  author  in  one  of  those  blissfully 
inconsequent  billets  which  are  the  delicate  arabesques 
of  love,  she  was  at  pains  to  add  an  intelligible  post- 
script excusing  herself  from  the  engagement  to  go 
to  the  day-after-to-morrow  fish  dinner. 

Wallace,  made  uneasily  inquisitive  by  this  post- 
script, came  promptly  to  demand  an  oral  explanation 
of  it,  but  was  unable  to  secure  the  necessary  two 
minutes  of  privacy  with  Miss  Vanbergen.  Faring  no 
better  in  two  subsequent  visits,  and  suspecting  that 
the  coquettish  malice  of  the  young  lady,  more  than 
the  intrusive  stupidity  of  the  family,  was  responsible 
for  his  discomfiture,  Wallace  had  recourse  to  the 
pen  as  the  speediest  means  to  a  settlement  of  the 
question. 

"  I  allow,"  he  wrote,  after  a  preface  enough  com- 
plimentary to  meet  the  exactions  of  the  most  ardent 
affection,  —  "I  allow  that  a  gentleman  is  bound  to 
submit  to  the  vexatious  conduct  of  a  lady  without 
betraying  chagrin,  and  I  should  take  a  buffet  from 
any  other  of  your  sex  with  the  easiest  good  humour 
in  the  world.  But  I  protest  that  lovers  do  not  fall 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  Ill 

under  that  law ;  for,  if  a  lover  were  to  hold  by  all  the 
rules  laid  down  for  the  guidance  of  a  gentleman,  he 
could  never  come  to  the  state  of  matrimony,  eti- 
quette being  the  very  antidote  of  love.  I  take  it, 
then,  to  be  quite  within  my  rights  to  warn  you  that 
I  am  not  of  a  temper  to  submit  with  patience  to  the 
impositions  of  your  caprice.  To  be  held  away  from 
you  after  this  fashion  irritates  me  to  the  degree  that 
I  shall  presently  hate  the  household  that  I  already 
find  obtrusive.  Now,  lest  you  may  think  I  jest,  I 
promise  you  that  I  shall  come  in  the  morning  to  take 
you  in  my  chaise,  and  if  you  refuse  to  give  me  the 
joy  of  having  your  company  to  a  drive,  I  swear,  by 
my  sword,  I  shall  make  your  refusal  the  ground  to.  a 
quarrel  with  either  Mr.  Wilbruch  or  your  father,  or 
both,  as  the  circumstances  may  dictate.  I  imagine 
you  will  think  it  proper  to  laugh  at  this  purpose  and 
prepare  yourself  with  some  pretty  defiance  to  com- 
plete my  exasperation.  But  if  there  be  any  lover's 
oath,  the  breaking  of  which  may  take  rank  as  perjury, 
I  lay  the  peril  of  that  oath  upon  my  soul,  if  I  do  not, 
in  some  determined  way,  avenge  myself  of  your 
wilfulness. 

"If,  however,  my  threat  to  do  violence  to  those 
who  shall  offend  me  cannot  penetrate  your  heart 
with  the  grace  of  a  saving  fear,  may  I  assume  that 
you  have  compassion  enough  to  wish  to  prevent  my 
ruin  ?  If  you  have  so  much  good-will  for  me,  and 


112  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

would  know  in  what  way  it  can  avert  something 
worse  than  a  fatality,  consent  to  drive  with  me  in 
the  morning,  —  and  I  will  tell  you  what  are  my  plans 
for  our  future  happiness.  Though  I  turn  thus  easily 
from  threatening  to  pleading,  'tis  but  to  give  you  an 
alternative,  for  I  prefer  the  violent  course.  Consider 
the  matter.  If,  to-morrow  morning,  you  play  the  imp 
with  me,  as  you  have  in  these  last  two  days,  I  shall 
kiss  you  in  the  family  presence  to  my  heart's  content, 
and  then  draw  upon  any  one  that  shall  offer  to  molest 
me  as  I  bear  you  by  force  of  arms  to  my  chaise." 

Whether  it  was  the  minatory  letter,  or  some  words 
murmured  into  her  ear  as  she  stood  watching  Hen- 
drik  fasten  the  pigeons  into  the  new  cote,  that  decided 
Miss  Vanbergen,  certain  it  is  that  she  went  without 
compulsion  to  take  her  place  in  the  chaise,  and 
showed  a  beaming  countenance  to  the  world  as 
they  drove  smartly  up  the  Broadway. 

"So  you  haven't  spoken  to  your  father?"  Miss 
Vanbergen  asked,  rather  abruptly,  after  a  time. 

"  Not  yet,"  Wallace  answered,  giving  a  touch  to 
the  off  horse. 

"Why?" 

"  I've  sounded  him,  though." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ? " 

"  Egad  !  Not  much  to  the  purpose." 

The  glimmer  of  hope  went  out  of  her  eyes,  and  a 
tinge  of  scarlet  came  into  her  cheeks. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  U3 

"  He  —  he  gave  you  to  understand  —  " 

"That  I  might  go  to  the  devil,  if  I  marry  without 
his  consent." 

«  Well,  Wallace,  that  means  —  " 

"  It  means,  sweetheart,  that  we  are  going  to  enter 
on  a  jolly  campaign  to  bring  my  father's  common 
sense  to  a  recognition  of  the  duty  he  owes  to  me. 
Egad !  Luya,  we  are  going  to  have  him  as  much  in 
love  with  you  as  I  am  myself." 

"  He  has  other  plans  for  you  ? " 

"  Something  of  the  sort." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  Don't  you  know  ? " 

"  Miss  Boylston  ? " 

"  I  thought  you  could  hit  the  mark  first  fire." 

"Well,  doubtless  your  father  knows  what  is  best 
for  you.  Miss  Boylston  is  a  most  proper  choice." 

"Shall  I  take  her,  then?" 

"  If  you  want  her.  I  dare  say  she  would  not 
object." 

"  And  you  ? " 

"  I  think  I  could  manage  to  do  without  you." 

"That  is  the  deuce  of  it;  I'm  afraid  you  could. 
But  I  could  not  do  without  you.  And  do  you  know 
what  I've  resolved  to  do  ?  Compromise  you  at  the 
dinner  to-day  in  a  way  to  make  it  impossible  you 
shall  pretend  to  any  independence  of  me." 

"How?" 


I  14  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"I  haven't  thought  that  out." 

"  Then  don't  think  it  out,  for  I  should  repudiate 
you  on  the  spot." 

"By  George!  I  believe  you  would.  Seriously, 
though,  do  you  think  a  man  is  bound  to  regulate  his 
life  by  the  whims  of  his  father  ? " 

"  I  think  his  father's  whims  are  entitled  to  some 
consideration." 

"  Consideration,  yes ;  but  if  the  judgment  be 
against  them  ? " 

"  I  suppose  a  man  should  follow  his  judgment." 

"Exactly.  Therefore,  we'll  get  married  as  soon 
as  may  be." 

"  Not  in  opposition  to  your  father's  will." 

"  What !     Why,  you  said  but  now  —  " 

"Yes,  a  man  should  have  the  right  to  regulate 
his  own  life ;  but  that  does  not  mean  that  he  shall 
have  the  right  to  regulate  a  woman's  mind  as  well. 
You  can  do  without  your  father's  consent ;  I  cannot." 

"  You  cannot  ?     Why  ? " 

"Have  you  forgotten  what  I  told  you  the  other 
day  ? " 

"No,  I  haven't  forgotten,  but  I  want  you  to 
forget  it." 

"  There  is  but  one  way  to  bring  that  about,"  she 
smiled;  "bring  your  father  to  your  way  of  think- 
ing." 

"  I  will.     He  has  only  to  know  that  I'm  in  love 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  115 

with  you.  I'll  tell  him.  He'll  riot  a  little  at  first, 
and  set  his  notions  on  parade,  but  —  " 

"  Don't  tell  him  yet,"  she  said,  moving  a  little 
nearer  to  him,  and  slipping  her  arm  through  his  in 
a  propitiatory  way  that  delighted  him.  "  Don't  tell 
him  yet.  I  think  there  is  something  very  fasci- 
nating in  being  secretly  in  love.  Don't  you?  I 
think  that  is  really  the  romance  of  love." 

Wallace  took  the  reins  into  one  hand  to  answer 
her. 

At  Miss  Boylston's  suggestion  the  dinner  was 
served  under  the  trees  in  the  garden,  hardly  a  stone's 
throw  from  the  river's  edge.  And  it  was  her  fancy, 
too,  to  have  roses,  quantities  of  them,  as  she  said, 
scattered  over  the  table,  flung  on  with  no  attempt 
at  arrangement.  "Flowers  are  never  so  lovely  as 
when  they  are  in  disorder,  lying  as  they  chance  to 
fall,"  she  explained,  throwing  a  handful  of  roses  half 
the  length  of  the  table  as  she  spoke.  When  the 
dishes  were  brought  on,  they  were  set  down  in  utter 
disregard  of  crushed  buds  and  bruised  petals,  which 
led  Allen  Bradford  to  complain  to  Miss  Norris,  who 
sat  at  his  right,  that  the  party  should  henceforth 
be  known  as  Herodians. 

"  Why  Herodians  ?  "  Miss  Norris  asked. 

"Doesn't  this  brutal  treatment  of  these  roses 
remind  you  of  the  slaughter  of  the  Innocents  ? " 


Il6  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bradford,"  cried  Miss  Lynn,  from  across 
the  table,  "your  jests  are  always  brought  from  such 
a  distance." 

"  Most  good  things  are,  Miss  Lynn,  —  ladies  always 
excepted.  I  prefer  them  home-made." 

"Why,  Mr.  Bradford,"  exclaimed  Miss  Lynn, 
meaning  to  be  roguish,  as  she  glanced  from  Bradford 
to  the  lady  beside  him,  "h,ave  you  forgotten  that 
Miss  Norris  is  come  from  Boston  ?  " 

""Pis  understood  that  exceptions  prove  the  rule," 
Bradford  replied,  with  a  sweep  of  his  glance  to  take 
in  the  several  comely  young  ladies.  "  Miss  Norris  has 
all  the  charms  and  graces  of  a  native  New  Yorker." 

This  remark  arrested  the  attention  of  Lieutenant 
Willett  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and  he  inter- 
posed some  trifle  of  light  humour  that  started  the 
most  lavish  compliments  circulating  about  the  table, 
until  amiability  unfolded  into  full  flower.  The  scene 
was  gala,  and  the  spirits  of  the  company  were  in 
accord  with  it.  Mynheer  Voort,  the  jovial  host, 
declared  to  his  wife,  in  one  of  his  excursions  to  the 
kitchen,  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  add  some 
extra  shillings  to  the  charge,  the  party  was  so  well 
content.  Sangaree  and  mead  was  plentifully  served 
to  cheer  the  ladies,  and  the  gentlemen  drank  Madeira 
with  a  freedom  that  speedily  brought  their  wit  to 
their  tongue's  end,  and  some  of  their  impudence 
along  with  it. 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  I  Ijr 

Wine  inspired  Wallace  Waring  with  a  reckless 
gaiety  which  flirted  its  plumes  in  the  face  of  caution 
without  ever  crossing  the  bounds  of  propriety.  Allen 
Bradford,  who  had  come  to  be  the  closest  of 
Wallace's  friends,  declared  on  one  occasion,  at  the 
tavern,  that  it  required  a  bottle  or  two  to  bring  out 
Waring's  most  estimable  qualities  of  heart  and 
breeding.  But  now  Wallace  was  not  so  much 
enlivened  by  the  wine  he  drank  as  by  the  enjoyment 
of  his  first  appearance  in  public  as  the  accepted 
lover  of  Miss  Luya  Vanbergen,  and  he  had  a  mis- 
chievous inclination  to  take  the  table  into  his  confi- 
dence. 

He  wanted  the  bond  given  in  the  chaise-ride  rati- 
fied by  the  acclaim  of  this  merry  group,  and  kept 
Luya  in  a  fever  of  apprehension  by  the  frequently 
whispered  threat  to  "tell  'em." 

His  attentions  to  Luya  were  much  too  marked  to 
escape  the  notice  of  Miss  Boylston,  and  by  degrees 
the  condescending  indifference  with  which  she  had 
come  to  regard  her  one-time  school  friend  gave  place 
to  a  more  positive  feeling,  which  was  not,  however, 
of  an  amiable  character.  And  when,  at  last,  Wallace, 
challenged  to  the  toast  by  Mr.  Ashton,  concluded  a 
gallant  eulogy  of  the  "  Ladies  "  with  a  "  God  bless 
them  all  —  especially  Miss  Vanbergen,"  Miss  Boyls- 
ton smiled  and  applauded  in  harmony  with  the 
laughter  and  jests  of  the  others,  but  shot  a  glance  at 


Il8  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

Miss  Vanbergen  which  would  have  incensed  that 
young  lady,  had  she  seen  it. 

As  the  preparations  were  making  for  the  return  to 
town  before  the  darkness  should  settle  on  the  road, 
Miss  Boylston  found  the  chance  to  say,  in  a  politely 
satirical  tone,  to  Miss  Vanbergen  : 

"  I  suppose,  of  course,  that  you  and  Mr.  Waring 
intend  to  go  by  way  of  the  Kissing  Bridge  ? " 

"  Is  that  the  road  you  will  take  with  Lieutenant 
Willett  ? " 

"  Lieutenant  Willett  and  I  are  not  on  such  easy 
terms." 

"  Perhaps  you  mean,  then,  to  propose  that  we 
change  escorts  ?  Would  you  think  the  Kissing 
Bridge  the  nearest  way  home  if  you  were  in  the 
chaise  with  Mr.  Waring  ?  " 

"  You  are  insolent,  Miss  Vanbergen !  " 

"  Ah  !  then  you  do  recognise  insolence  in  another. 
I  believe  this  was  really  your  party.  Let  me  thank 
you,  then,  for  one  of  the  very  pleasantest  days  I  have 
ever  known." 

Miss  Vanbergen  smiled  sweetly,  made  a  half-curt- 
sey and  turned  away  to  rejoin  the  others. 

"  Hussy  !  "  was  the  unspoken  word  that  trembled 
on  Miss  Boylston's  lips. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THOUGH  Mr.  Vanbergen  had  yielded  in  many  ways 
to  the  modern  ideas  of  his  daughter,  notably  in  modi- 
fication of  his  Dutch  dress,  upon  one  point  he  held 
stubbornly  by  the  habit  of  his  ancestors.  The  great 
raftered  and  tiled-floor  kitchen  continued,  in  spite  of 
new  additions  to  the  house,  to  be  the  family  gather- 
ing or  sitting  room.  There  was  a  long,  low  room  in 
the  front  of  the  house,  which  Mrs.  Vanbergen  and 
Luya  styled  the  drawing-room,  and  which  Mr.  Van- 
bergen referred 'to  as  "  t'e  pig  room,"  meaning  to  say 
the  big  room  ;  but  this  came  into  use  so  rarely  and 
then  in  such  a  solemnly  formal  way,  that  it  could 
hardly  be  said  to  be  a  part  of  the  house. 

Luya  had  tried  in  vain  to  make  this  the  family 
assembly-room,  and,  to  please  her,  Vanbergen,  for 
several  evenings  in  succession,  sat  by  the  small  fire- 
place, with  his  pipe,  chatting  with  enforced  cheerful- 
ness to  the  members  of  his  household  or  to  the 
chance  visitors.  But  he  would  seize  the  first  oppor- 
tunity to  escape  and  take  his  favourite  seat  in  the 
vast  chimney-corner  of  the  kitchen,  "t'e  only  place 
t'at  seems  like  home,"  and  where  he  could  be  en- 
119 


I2O  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

tirely  happy,  even  with  no  other  companion  than  his 
pipe  and  tobacco-box. 

So  the  spinet,  the  family  portraits,  and  various 
other  glories  of  the  discredited  drawing-room  were 
returned  to  their  ancient  places  in  the  living-room, 
which  was,  after  all,  the  most  attractive  and  comfort- 
giving  quarter  of  the  house,  kitchen  though  it  was. 
Substantial  plenty  and  free-hearted  prosperity  were 
indicated  in  every  feature  and  disposition  of  the  room, 
from  the  black  pot  hanging  from  its  crane  in  the 
fireplace  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  room,  where  the 
tall  dresser  proudly  sustained  its  wealth  of  polished 
pewter.  The  antlers  of  a  deer  fixed  over  the  door- 
way opening  on  the  garden  walk,  and  bearing  on  its 
prongs  a  heavy  flint-lock  rifle  were  dumbly  eloquent 
of  the  fact  that  there  had  been  a  Vanbergen  who 
knew  something  of  sport  and  the  prowess  of  arms. 
Be  it  said,,  to  the  honour  of  the  long  "iron,"  that  it 
had  smoked  and  snorted  in  defence  of  New  Amster- 
dam in  more  than  one  perilous  engagement,  and 
might,  if  need  came,  do  helpful  service  still  in  behalf 
of  New  Amsterdam's  successor.  But  the  model  of  a 
rakish-looking,  three-mast  craft  perched  over  the 
hood  of  the  chimney  had  more  interest  for  Evert 
Vanbergen  than  the  trophy  and  the  gun  left  over 
from  Claes  Vanbergen's  time.  The  model  was  that 
of  a  privateer  which  Evert  had  set  out  to  sea  when 
the  exigencies  of  trade  seemed  too  great  for  method- 


IN   OLD   NEW   YORK.  121 

ical  competition,  and  it  was  almost  an  open  secret 
that  the  finest  quality  of  Holland  rum  and  the  choic- 
est grades  of  teas  and  spices  came  into  Evert  Van- 
bergen's  workrooms  with  a  wink  and  a  nod  from  the 
customs.  He  had  a  curious  fashion  of  waving  salu- 
tations to  the  model  with  his  pipe-stem  when  he  sat 
alone  before  the  fireplace,  and  saying,  with  a  mellow 
chuckle  like  the  gurgle  of  rum  poured  from  a  wide- 
lipped  jug: 

"  You  haf  tun  pretty  veil  py  myself,  t'at's  so." 
Other  hallowed  treasures  of  the  room  were  the 
two  portraits  on  the  east  wall,  Evert' s  father  and 
grandfather,  painted  in  the  good  stiff  fashion  of  the 
prim  Dutch  school ;  and,  deferentially  apart  from 
them,  was  one  of  Evert  himself,  less  majestic  in  style 
but  more  artistic  in  finish,  the  work  of  a  vagabond 
Frenchman  who  thus  paid  for  his  passage  back  to 
France. 

A  potted  vine  half  embowered  one  of  the  windows, 
through  which  the  sunlight  filtered  to  compose  a 
mosaic  of  ivory  and  gold  upon  the  floor,  the  green 
leaves  showing  like  a  rich  embroidery  against  the 
white  stuff  curtains  looped  back  at  the  sides.  There 
were  the  fragrance  and  colour  of  newly  gathered 
flowers  to  add  to  the  homely  charm  of  the  room  in 
which  Mrs.  Vanbergen  and  the  mulatto  girl,  Marta, 
were  busy  with  preparations  for  the  noonday  meal, 
the  most  important  function  of  the  day.  Altogether, 


122  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

the  master  of  the  house  was  not  without  reason  for 
his  predilections  for  the  kitchen. 

This  was  the  day  of  the  month  on  which  Mr. 
Stephen  Waring  came,  with  punctilious  regularity, 
to  examine  the  statement  of  accounts,  and  take  a 
cheque  for  his  share  of  the  profits  from  the  business 
conducted  by  Mr.  Vanbergen.  Once  a  week,  too, 
they  met  in  this  domestic  way  for  a  general  discus- 
sion of  their  affairs,  but  that  was  a  most  perfunctory 
proceeding  on  Mr.  Waring' s  part,  for  he  knew  almost 
as  little  of  the  practical  workings  of  trade  and  com- 
merce as  he  did  the  day  he  became  a  dormant 
partner.  He  was  not  of  that  opinion,  however,  and 
fostered  the  belief  that  his  acquiescence  in  Mr.  Van- 
bergen's  plans  had  all  the  force  of  sound  advice. 
But  Evert  Vanbergen  was  not  in  need  of  any  man's 
advice  in  the  matter  of  turning  trade  shillings  into 
commercial  pounds,  and  Mr.  Waring  would  have 
confessed  as  much  to  any  one  else  than  himself. 

Because  of  it  being  settlement  day,  Mr.  Van- 
bergen came  to  the  house  half  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual,  sturdily  ignoring,  in  his  walk  from  Dock 
Street,  the  shadowy  and  noisy  evidence  that  the 
town-folk  and  military  were  escorting  the  Governor 
through  the  streets  in  one  of  those  quasi-state 
parades  which  were  given  whenever  ,an  occasion 
would  present  an  excuse  for  them.  He  seated  him- 
self at  the  black  oak  desk  at  the  left  of  the  fireplace, 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  \2$ 

to  make  ready  the  page  of  the  credit  book  for  Mr. 
Waring' s  signature  of  receipt  in  full,  and  was  en- 
grossed in  his  task  when  Mrs.  Vanbergen  took 
advantage  of  Marta's  absence  from  the  room  to 
claim  his  attention. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Evert." 

"  Ton't  you  see  I  vas  pusy  ? " 

"  It's  about  Luya." 

"  Veil,  t'en,  vat  is  it  apout  Luya  ? " 

"She  has  not  been  herself  for  the  last  week  or 
two." 

"  Who  haf  she  peen,  t'en  ?  I  ton't  see  t'at  she  is 
somepoty  else.  You  talk  foolishness,  vife." 

"  I  mean  that  she  seems  to  be  in  a  state  of  mind. 
It  is  my  belief  that  Luya  is  in  love." 

"  Ja,  I  t'ink  so,  also !  I  haf  hat  t'at  pelief  long 
time  ago.  Titn't  I  tell  you  vat  Jacob  sait  ? " 

"  But  it  isn't  with  Jacob." 

"  Vat  is  not  vit  Jacob  ?  Goot  gracious,  vife,  haf 
you  lost  sometings  from  your  he't  ?  I  haf  tolt  Jacob 
t'at  he  can  haf  her.  I  ton't  t'ink  of  notings  else." 

"Then  Jacob  had  better  make  haste  to  take  her, 
for  it  is  my  opinion  she  has  other  fancies  in  her 
head." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  rose  from  his  chair  and  approached 
his  wife,  in  smiling  indulgence.  He  stopped  before 
her,  and  stood  with  his  hands  in  the  ample  pockets 
of  his  long  waistcoat,  and  looked  at  her  benevolently, 


124  IN  OLD 

but  with  a  certain  mocking  drollery  in  the  tilt  of  his 
large  round  head. 

"  Mr.  Vallace  Varing,  he  ? ". 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  it,  Evert." 

"  Oh,  my  tear,  a  vooman  alvays  sees  t'ings  t'e  vay 
she  vants  to  haf  'em.  You'd  t'ink  it  pretty  veil  now 
if  it  vas  t'at  vay,  he?  Veil,  I  tell  you,  my  fine 
voomans,  Jacob  feels  sure  of  Luya,  and  ven  Jacob 
feels  sure,  t'ere's  no  use  hafing  some  ot'er  opinion." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  Evert ;  but  Jacob  felt  sure 
of  Black  Dan's  winning  in  the  race  last  month." 

"  Veil,  it  took  a  pullet  to  peat  him,  titn't  it  ?  T'at 
proofed  t'at  Jacob  vas  right.  Accitents  t'at  haf  no 
pusiness  to  happen — " 

"  But  accidents  happen  in  love  races,  too,  Evert," 
Mrs.  Vanbergen  interrupted,  the  thought  of  the 
dinner  weighing  on  her  mind.  "And  I  just  had 
a  mind  to  tell  you  that  if  Jacob  wants  Luya  he'd 
better  be  quick  about  letting  her  know  it ;  and  I'd 
advise  you  to  say  as  much  to  him.  He  is  coming  to 
dinner  to-day.  You'd  better  not  let  him  go  away 
without  saying  something." 

Mrs.  Vanbergen  finished  her  remarks  at  the  door, 
and  was  just  going  out  as  Mr.  Vanbergen  asked : 

"Vere  is  Luya?" 

"  Watching  the  procession  with  Mr.  Waring,"  Mrs. 
Vanbergen  answered,  in  that  tone  of  repressed  tri- 
umph with  which  even  the  gentlest  of  women  will 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  12$ 

deliver  the  coup-de-grdce  of  an  argument  when  chance 
befriends  them. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  stood  some  moments  as  his  wife 
left  him,  his  lips  pursed  in  sign  of  reflection,  his 
eyes,  of  a  faded  blue,  blinking  off  the  stages  of 
his  thoughts,  his  hands  moving  experimentally  up 
and  down  in  his  waistcoat  pockets.  Seeming  to 
have  made  up  his  mind  to  something,  he  went  to 
his  desk,  took  a  box  of  chessmen  from  one  of  the 
drawers,  dragged  a  small  table  from  a  corner,  and 
began  arranging  the  pieces  of  the  squares  of  the 
chessboard. 

"  I  can  reason  petter  vit  Jacob  ven  he's  playing 
chess,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  thought. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

MR.  VANBERGEN  surprised  himself  by  getting  the 
advantage  in  the  game,  and  Jacob's  intent  applica- 
tion to  the  problem  of  his  salvation  had  not  been 
favourable  to  conversation.  Moreover,  the  pleasure 
of  an  unusual  success  made  Mr.  Vanbergen  forget, 
for  a  time,  the  real  purpose  he  had  in  arraying  the 
chessmen  in  order.  He  lolled  contentedly  back  in 
his  great  armchair,  betraying  in  a  permanent  smile 
his  enjoyment  of  Jacob's  perplexity.  Marta  came 
and  went,  alternating  with  Mrs.  Vanbergen  in  the 
culinary  offices  without  disturbing  the  preoccupation 
of  the  one  or  the  blissful  tranquillity  of  the  other. 

"T'ere's  no  hope  for  you,  Jacob,"  Mr.  Vanbergen 
said,  noting  with  satisfaction  the  stolid  countenance 
of  his  opponent.  "  You  joost  as  veil  gif  up." 

"  Wait,"  said  Jacob,  without  changing  his  attitude. 

"  Ja ;  take  your  time,  Jacob.  I  like  to  see  a  man 
take  plenty  time.  Bonder!  I  make  my  mint  up 
slowly,  too.  T'en  I  ton't  haf  to  make  it  over  some 
more.  'Tis  a  goot  vay." 

Jacob,  who  sat  supporting  his  right  elbow  with  his 
left  hand,  thus  making  a  prop  for  his  chin,  presently 
126 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  I2/ 

reached  forth  his  right  hand  as  if  to  move  a  piece, 
hesitated,  and  resumed  his  original  position  of  patient 
calculation. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  rose,  chuckling,  and  went  toward 
the  chimney. 

"  Ha  !  T'at's  right,  Jacob.  I  like  to  see  you  not 
in  haste." 

He  took  his  pipe  from  the  chimney  shelf,  reached 
for  his  tobacco  jar,  and,  holding  it  under  his  arm, 
proceeded  in  a  methodical,  unhurried  way  to  fill  his 
pipe  with  the  leaf  he  crumbled  in  his  palm.  This 
operation  completed  to  his  liking,  he  picked  up  a 
splinter  of  wood  from  the  hearth,  lighted  it  in  the 
flame  of  the  fire,  and,  with  long,  slow  inhalations, 
set  the  tobacco  in  the  bowl  aglow.  The  properties 
of  the  pipe  acted  so  gratefully  upon  his  mind  that 
his  thoughts  were  restored  to  their  normal  balance, 
and  he  remembered  that  defeating  Jacob  at  chess 
was  not  his  primary  object. 

"  Ja ;  'tis  true  I  like  to  see  a  man  not  in  haste 
most  of  t'e  time,  Jacob.  But  not  all  t'e  times. 
T'ere's  one  t'ing  voult  suit  me  petter  if  you  vas 
more  quick.  He  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  ? "  Jacob  asked,  without  looking  up. 

"  T'e  same  t'ing  it  has  peen  t'ese  two  years,  Jacob, 
—  more  fan  two  years.  T'e  same  t'ing  ve  talket 
apout  one  tay  just  now,  —  Luya.  I  t'ink  you  petter 
speak  to  her." 


128  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"Sometime,  Mr.  Vanbergen.  No  hurry.  But 
I've  been  thinking  —  "  Jacob  interrupted  himself  to 
make  a  second  motion  toward  moving  a  piece,  but 
again  drew  back  his  hand,  uncertain. 

"  Ja,  Jacob,  yes  ?  You  have  been  t'inking  ? "  Mr. 
Vanbergen  prompted. 

"  I've  been  thinking  that  some  one  ought  to  tell 
her.  You,  I  think." 

"  I,  Jacob  !  "  Mr.  Vanbergen  took  the  pipe  from 
his  mouth  to  give  freer  expression  to  his  surprise. 

"  I  think  so,"  Jacob  said,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way, 
as  he  finally  made  the  long  debated  move. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  puffed  a  cloud  of  smoke  and 
looked  into  it  contemplatively,  as  if  in  its  writhing 
and  coiling  he  should  find  an  answer  suited  to  the 
extraordinary  proposition. 

"I  ton't  know  apout  t'at,  Jacob.  It  has  peen 
so  long  since  I  haf  tone  my  courting,  t'at  maype  I 
ton't  know  how  some  more." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  do  the  courting,"  Jacob 
said,  "  I  only  want  you  to  get  her  ready  to  expect 
what  I'm  going  to  tell  her  sometime.  It  is  your 
move." 

"  Haf  you  mofed  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vanbergen,  coming 
to  inspect  the  board.  "  Humph  !  T'at's  somet'ing  to 
t'ink  apout." 

After  a  silence,  during  which  it  was  evident  that 
his  mind  was  no  longer  concerned  with  the  fate  of 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  12$ 

the  chessmen,  Mr.  Vanbergen  swept  the  pieces  into 
red  and  black  confusion  with  a  sudden  stroke  of  his 
chubby  hand,  and  sat  down,  confidentially  insistent, 
in  front  of  Jacob. 

"  Look  here,  now,  Jacob.  Luya  is  only  half  her 
fat'er's  girl.  Ton't  forget  t'at  Mrs.  Vanbergen  vas 
English  girls  ven  I  marriet  her,  and  Luya  haf  got 
some  of  her  moeder  in  her  veins." 

"Well,  I  am  only  half  a  Dutchman,"  Jacob  replied, 
not  entirely  clear  in  his  mind  what  Luya's  origin 
had  to  do  with  the  matter. 

"  Goot !  very  goot ! "  Mr.  Vanbergen  rejoined, 
good-humouredly,  seeming  to  find  a  joke  in  Jacob's 
reply.  "Tis  true,  Jacob.  Put  in  some  t'ings  you 
are  as  Dutch  as  me  —  more  Dutch  t'an  me,  Jacob, 
for  you  ton't  see  vat  is  going  on.  even  ven  somepoty 
tell  you.  T'ese  are  English  tays  and  English  vays, 
Jacob,  and  you  try  to  make  'em  fit  t'e  old  Dutch 
vays  of  your  grandfat'er.  T'at  won't  to,  Jacob ; 
t'at  von't  to !  You  must  be  more  vide  avake,  and 
take  t'e  times  as  t'ey  come  to  you.  'Tis  a  time  of 
quickness.  You  must  pe  at  once." 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  am  different  from  anybody  else." 
"  You  t'ink  so  ?     Vere  is  Luya  now  ? " 
"  Gone  to  see  the  procession,  I  suppose." 
"  And  vit  Mr.  Varing !     You  neffer  take  her  out 
ven  people  show  t'emselves  —  put   young  girls  like 
gay  t'ings,  Jacob.     Tis  a  pleasant  foolishness." 


130  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  I  haven't  time  for  foolishness,  Mr.  Vanbergen. 
When  I'm  not  at  business  I  study,  —  except  when  I 
come  here.  I'm  doing  that  for  Luya." 

"  Oh,  'tis  veil  enough  to  be  sensiple  insite,  Jacob  ; 
put  not  vit  voomans.  Tis  fashionaple  to  pe  foolish, 
and  fashion  is  t'e  trap  to  set  ven  you  vant  to  catch  a 
voomans.  A  handsome  coat  and  a  fine  pair  of  legs 
in  silk  stockings  and  a  swort  hanging  by  t'e  site  are 
vort  all  t'e  sense  in  t'e  world,  Jacob.  Vat  you  say, 
vife,  he  ?  "  turning  to  Mrs.  Vanbergen  and  acquaint- 
ing her  with  the  situation. 

"All  I  can  say  is  this,  Jacob,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
said,  as  she  put  a  beef  bone  into  the  great  pot  of 
boiling  liquid  that  hung  over  the  fire.  "If  I  had 
waited  for  Evert  until  he  had  made  a  scholar  of  him- 
self, I  might  have  been  waiting  yet.  When  a  girl 
loves  a  man,  she  takes  him  for  better  or  worse ;  and 
she  is  willing  to  allow  that  there  are  much  worse 
things  than  not  being  a  college  professor.  Heart 
counts  for  more  than  brain  in  marriage,  Jacob,  —  but, 
for  that  matter,  I  think  you  are  as  sensible  as  most 
young  men." 

"  Bonder  !  you  hear  t'at,  Jacob  ? "  cried  Mr.  Van- 
bergen, with  an  explosion  of  conjugal  pride.  "'Tis 
t'e  pest  atvice  in  t'e  worlt.  Ton't  pe  fools,  Jacob  — 
and  etucation  is  only  a  fool's  ammunition  —  wise  men 
ton't  neet  it.  Vait  and  sent  your  children  to  school, 
if  you  vant  to  make  fine  gentlemens  of  t'em,  —  put 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  13 1 

use  your  time  for  something  petter  now.  Go  in  for 
pusiness,  Jacob.  You  can't  affort  to  spent  your  time 
at  t'e  college.  Vy,  look  you  how  t'e  town  and  trate 
is  growing.  Effery  ship  prings  in  some  more  people 
—  t'ese  English  are  not  like  our  Dutch  —  t'ey  grow, 
t'ey  multiply,  and  trate  grows  vit  t'em.  T'ey  haf 
tone  more  in  forty  years  vit  New  York  t'an  t'e  Dutch 
tit  vit  New  Amstertam  in  near  two  huntert.  Ve  are 
growing  so  fast  t'at  lant  is  getting  to  pe  vort  some- 
t'ing,  and  I'm  putting  effery  stiver  t'at  I  ton't  neet 
into  any  lant  t'at  is  for  sale  in  half  a  mile  of  t'e 
Town  Hall.  Ve'll  haf  fifty  t'ousant  people  here 
some  tay." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  made  this  last  extravagant  state- 
ment with  a  judicious  lowering  of  the  voice ;  and, 
imagining  that  there  was  much  question  of  his  pro- 
phetic authority  in  Jacob's  unmoved  countenance,  he 
added,  by  way  of  caution  : 

"  But  t'e  size  ton't  make  some  tifference,  —  'tis  t'e 
trate  t'at  prings  t'e  money."  From  Mr.  Vanbergen's 
standpoint  trade  had  to  do  with  the  passing  to  and 
fro  of  ships,  and  he  had  other  markets  for  his  car- 
goes than  the  sunny  little  town  of  his  birth. 

"Are  you  willing  that  I  should  have  Luya  as  I 
am  ? "  Jacob  asked,  going  to  Mrs.  Vanbergen  and 
taking  her  by  the  arm  in  the  half-caressing  way  he 
had  used  with  her  when  he  was  a  boy  and  under  her 
charge. 


132  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"Well,  Jacob,"  she  answered,  a  little  hesitatingly, 
«'  I  hadn't  thought  of  you  in  this  way  till  Evert  told 
me  something  the  other  night ;  and  I  don't  believe 
it  has  come  into  Luya's  head  at  all.  But  one  never 
knows,  —  and  if  Luya  loves  you,  why,  I  shall  love 
you,  too,  for  you  have  been  like  a  son  to  us,  after  all, 
Jacob.  And  as  for  taking  you  as  you  are,  —  nothing 
the  colleges  can  give  you  would  make  you  any  wor- 
thier of  a  good  girl's  love,  —  and  I  couldn't  ask  a 
better  husband  for  Luya." 

"Tamn  it,  vife,  I'll  haf  a  kiss  for  t'at !  "  cried  Mr. 
Vanbergen,  coming  to  her  side  and  giving  hearty 
effect  to  his  words.  "  Veil,  vat  you  say,  Jacob  ? " 

"  I'll  tell  Luya  to-day." 

f<  Spoken  like  a  mans,  Jacob !  And  if  she  is  as 
sensiple  as  her  moeder's  chilt  ought  to  pe,  I'll  att 
anot'er  five  per  cent,  to  t'at  settlement  I  mate  vit 
you." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  pinched  his  wife's  cheek  as  he 
whispered  in  her  ear  : 

"  I'm  going  to  name  t'e  first  grantchilt." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

"  I  HAVE  brought  Mr.  Waring  home  with  me," 
Luya  announced,  coming  in  through  the  side  door 
with  a  flutter  of  white  drapery  and  emptying  her 
arms  of  numerous  little  parcels.  "  We've  been  visit- 
ing the  shops  together." 

"  Has  he  come  to  dinner  ?  "  Mrs.  Vanbergen  asked. 

"  No ;  I  haven't  asked  him.  I  dare  say  you  can 
persuade  him,  though.  He  isn't  difficult.  I've 
bought  you  a  Sunday  cap,  mamma,  that  will  be 
vastly  becoming  to  you.  .  'Tis  the  latest  thing  from 
London,  and  in  the  highest  vogue.  I  am  determined 
you  shall  wear  it.  La,  Jacob,  how-de-do !  You  are 
so  hidden  in  smoke  I  hadn't  seen  you !  Why  were 
you  not  out  to  see  the  procession?  But  I  forgot. 
You  don't  approve  of  those  things,  —  you  are  so 
much  a  partisan  of  Mr.  Zenger  that  you  hate  a 
royal  holiday.  Take  care,  Jacob !  You  will  get  to 
be  known  as  a  rabid  anti-royalist,  and  then  I  should 
have  to  hide  when  I  see  you  coming.  Papa,  there 
is  a  neckcloth  for  you,  a  thing  you  detest,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  you  shall  pretend  to  like,  and  pay  me 


134  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

handsomely  for  it  into  the  bargain,  for  I  have  emptied 
my  purse  of  the  last  farthing." 

"  Ja,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  nodded,  thinking  that  the 
earth  had  nothing  quite  so  joy-giving  as  the  impudent 
tyranny  of  this  young  woman  ;  "  I  alvays  haf  to  pay 
goot  price  for  your  fafours,  Luya.  Apout  fifteen 
pounts  a  kiss,  I  think." 

"  Well,  here  is  one  I'll  throw  in  with  the  neck- 
cloth, to  prove  that  I'm  not  a  Jew,"  putting  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  kissing  him  with  unmis- 
takable affection. 

There  was  something  at  once  comical  and  pathetic 
in  the  proudly  grateful  way  in  which  Mr.  Vanbergen 
always  received  his  daughter's  caresses.  He  never 
got  over  wondering  how  it  came  about  that  he  should 
have  been  the  begetter  of  this  pink  and  white  perfec- 
tion, with  the  astonishingly  lively  spirit  inside  of  it. 

"What  have  you  done  with  Mr.  Waring?"  asked 
Mrs.  Vanbergen,  taking  a  table-cloth  from  the 
dresser. 

"  Oh,  he  stopped  in  front  with  his  father  to  talk 
with  Mr.  Boylston.  You'd  better  get  one  of  your 
special  bottles  from  the  cellar,  papa.  You  know 
Mr.  Stephen  Waring' s  taste." 

"Ja,  t'at's  so.  I'll  get  him.  Oh,  py  t'e  vay, 
Jacob  has  somet'ings  to  talk  apout  vit  you,  Luya. 
Vife,  you  come  and  holt  a  cantles  vile  I  get  t'e 
vine." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  135 

"  Can't  Marta  do  that  ? "  Luya  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Not  t'is  time,"  said  Mr.  Vanbergen,  closing  his 
eye  at  Mrs.  Vanbergen,  in  his  fashion  of  winking. 

"  Don't  let  the  kettle  boil  over,  Luya,"  Mrs.  Van- 
bergen said,  in  admonition,  as  she  followed  her 
husband  out  of  the  room,  at  the  same  time  inter- 
cepting Hendrik,  who  wished  to  consult  Luya  about 
an  ailing  pigeon. 

"  Well,  Jacob,  what  is  it  you  have  to  say  to  me  ? 
Something  more  interesting  than  usual,  I  hope,  for  I 
declare,  Jacob,  you  are  not  generally  more  lively  than 
the  chair  beside  you.  What  has  happened  ?  You 
look  as  full  of  matter  as  an  egg  of  meat,  and  solemn 
enough  to  mourn  at  a  funeral.  Sure,  some  marvel 
has  come  to  pass  since  I  saw  you  yester  morn.  Have 
you  beaten  Governor  Cosby  at  bowls  ?  Has  the  proud 
Miss  Boylston  or  the  simpering  Miss  Lynn  thrown 
you  a  kiss  from  her  chair  ?  Did  the  meteor  we  saw 
last  night  dig  a  hole  in  your  Long  Island  farm,  and 
uncover  the  treasure  of  Captain  Kidd  ?  Speak,  Jacob, 
for  I  much  fear  I'm  in  the  way  to  laugh,  and  I'd  not 
do  that  before  I  have  felt  your  wit.  And  yet  you 
must  allow,  'tis  droll  to  see  you  standing  there,  eyeing 
me  as  if  you  were  of  a  mind  to  throw  your  head  at 
me.  Come,"  flirting  her  handkerchief  into  his  face, 
as  she  passed  him  going  to  the  spinet,  "tell  me. 
But,  mark  you,  Jacob,  if  you  wish  to  take  me  on  a 
new  adventure  to  discover  some  wonder  of  the  island, 


136  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

you  much  mistook  my  temper  on  the  last  occasion.  I 
have  no  wish  to  flounder,  a  second  time,  half  lost  in  a 
swamp  with  so  poor  a  guide,  to  the  ruin  of  my  gown 
and  the  first  really  pretty  pair  of  shoes  I  ever  had. 
Well,  well,"  beginning  to  play,  "  are  you  waiting  for 
my  mother  to  came  back  with  the  wine,  to  loosen 
your  tongue  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Jacob,  in  his  solemnly  measured  way, 
"  I  was  waiting  for  a  chance  to  speak.  I  want  to 
marry  you." 

Luya  turned  quickly  about  in  her  chair  to  look 
at  him.  He  had  not  moved  from  his  position,  but 
stood  gravely  regarding  her,  his  hands  in  his  coat 
pockets.  She  rose,  laughingly,  and  came  toward 
him. 

"  Why,  Jacob,  what  put  that  idea  into  your  head  ? 
What  made  you  think  of  anything  like  that  ?  Why, 
I  have  known  you  all  my  life,  —  we  have  played 
together  since  we  were  no  higher  than  this  table,  — 
and  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  thought  you  had  a 
bit  of  humour."  She  took  his  chin  between  her 
thumb  and  finger,  and  gave  his  head  a  shake.  "  So 
you  thought  you'd  laugh  at  me  ? " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  simply,  his  hands  still  deep 
in  his  pockets,  "I'm  not  laughing  at  you.  I  love 
you." 

"And  when  did  you  find  it  out?"  she  asked, 
teasingly,  with  another  pull  at  his  chin. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  \*tf 

"I  have  always  known  it." 

"  And  you  never  thought  to  tell  me  ? " 

"  I  waited  to  get  through  my  studies.  You  were 
smarter  than  I.  I  wanted  to  educate  myself.  I 
wanted  to  be  worthy  of  you." 

There  was  too  much  earnestness  in  the  frank, 
honest  face,  and  too  much  self-depreciation  in  the 
worshipful  attitude  of  the  man  into  whose  heart  she 
had  never  thought  to  look,  to  permit  of  further 
lightness  on  her  part.  She  was  touched  by  his 
manner,  and  guiltily  realised  that  she  had  been  sur- 
prised into  a  cruelly  ungenerous  treatment  of  him. 

"  And  you  really  love  me  ?  " 

"It  seems  to  me  there  is  nothing  else  in  the 
world  but  you." 

She  moved  away  from  him  a  few  steps,  troubled 
in  heart  and  mind  what  to  say  most  gently  to  make 
him  understand.  She  felt  a  sudden  great  sympathy 
with  him,  thinking  what  it  would  mean  to  her  to 
love  without  being  loved  in  return,  and  in  pitying 
him  she  was  forgetting  to  answer  him. 

He  came  a  little  toward  her,  but  hesitatingly. 

"  Well,  Luya  ?  " 

She  returned  to  him,  putting  her  hand  caress- 
ingly on  his  arm,  and  looking  into  his  face  with  such 
kindness  in  her  eyes  that  his  heart  quickened  its 
beating,  and  he  put  up  one  hand  to  rest  on  hers. 

"  I    would  not  willingly  break  the  wing  of  a  fly, 


138  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

Jacob.  It  is  far  from  my  wish  to  wound  the  feel- 
ings of  an  old  friend.  We  are  old  friends.  We 
have  been  the  best  of  friends,  —  very,  very  dear 
friends." 

She  paused  a  moment,  but  he  waited  in  silence. 
He  saw  no  need  to  answer  her. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  continued,  "they  tell  me 
that  my  mother  was  your  father's  first  sweetheart,  — 
that  is  to  say,  he  loved  her,  —  but  —  she  only 
esteemed  him,  Jacob.  We  cannot  do  what  we  will 
with  love.  Love  comes  in  its  own  way  to  us,  and 
it  comes  without  our  bidding.  Your  father  found 
happiness  in  another  love,  and  —  and  —  so  may  you. 
I  am  very  fond  of  you,  Jacob,  —  I  shall  always  want 
you  for  my  friend,  but  I  do  not  love  you  in  the 
way  you  would  have  me." 

7  Never  mind,  Luya,"  he  said,  taking  her  two  hands 
in  his ;  "  I  can  wait." 

"  'Tis  not  that,  either,  Jacob.  It  is  not  as  if  —  it 
is  not  as  if  there  were  no  one  else." 

She  felt  his  hands  tighten  on  hers,  and  looked  up 
in  time  to  see  the  change  in  his  face,  a  swift  passing 
expression  of  pain  that  took  the  colour  from  his 
cheeks. 

"  You  love  some  one  else  ? " 

"  Yes,  Jacob." 

"Wallace  Waring?" 

There  was  neither  jealousy  nor  bitterness  in  the 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  139 

tone,  and  the  question  was  less  a  question  than  a 
recognition  of  a  fact. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  frankly. 

"  And  he  loves  you  ? " 

"Yes." 

Jacob  slowly  released  her  hands,  stood  a  moment 
silently  looking  into  her  face,  and  then  went  to  take 
down  his  hat  from  the  peg  on  which  it  hung,  at  the 
end  of  the  fireplace. 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  me  ? "  she  asked,  follow- 
ing a  little  after  him. 

"Angry  with  you,  Luya!"  He  was  much  hurt 
by  the  thought.  He  put  out  his  hand  to  her.  "  If 
you  are  happy,  that  will  make  me  happy,  too." 

"  And  we  shall  be  the  same  good  friends  we  have 
always  been  ? " 

"Always,  Luya." 

"  And  you  won't  think  any  less  of  — "  she 
hesitated. 

"I  cannot  think  ill  of  any  one  whom  you  can 
love,  Luya,"  divining  what  was  in  her  mind. 

They  stood  with  hands  clasped  on  this  loyal  com- 
pact as  Mr.  Vanbergen,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Waring, 
entered  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MR.  VANBERGEN  noted,  with  the  liveliest  satisfac- 
tion, the  friendly  attitude  of  the  young  people  as  he 
entered  the  room.  He  drew  from  it  the  most  favour- 
able inferences,  troubling  himself  not  a  jot  with  any 
of  the  mysteries  of  facial  expression.  It  was  quite 
enough  for  him  that  Jacob  had  been  standing  in  front 
of  Luya,  holding  one  of  her  hands  smothered  between 
both  of  his.  In  Mr.  Vanbergen's  book  of  revelations 
there  was  but  one  interpretation  allowed  to  each 
group  of  human  hieroglyphs  ;  clasped  hands  and  eyes 
looking  into  eyes,  when  the  figures  were  youths  of 
the  opposite  sex,  meant  the  fulfilment  of  paternal 
hopes,  and  nothing  less.  So  Mr.  Vanbergen  had  a 
good  many  winks  and  nods  of  a  highly  significant 
character  to  throw  to  whom  would  take  them  as  he 
ushered  Mr.  Waring  in,  relieved  him  of  his  hat,  and 
chatted  in  an  animated  but  unintelligible  way  as  he 
bustled  about,  nervous  with  eagerness  to  get  a  private 
word  with  Jacob. 

Mr.  Waring  shook  hands  with  Jacob,  and  asked  if 
it  were  true,  as  he  had  heard,  that  he,  Jacob,  had 
140 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  141 

loaned  Mr.  Zenger  money  to  further  some  of  his 
printing  schemes. 

"But  a  small  amount,  for  a  little  time,  Mr. 
Waring." 

"  I  advise  you  not  to  mix  with  him,"  said  Mr.  War- 
ing, going  to  the  fireplace  and  stretching  out  his 
hands  over  the  flame,  for  the  day  was  chilly  in 
spite  of  the  midsummer.  "  Zenger  is  a  trouble- 
some creature,  and  I  marvel  at  the  Governor's  tol- 
erance of  his  sedition.  'Twould  be  a  sorry  business 
if  he  should  stir  up  the  rebellion  he  seems  to  strike 
at." 

Luya  had  quitted  the  room  at  the  first  opportunity, 
making  the  excuse  of  helping  her  mother  with  the 
beverages  to  escape  her  father's  questioning.  Jacob 
had  moved  toward  the  outer  door  while  Mr.  Waring 
was  talking  and  had  his  hand  on  the  latch,  when  Mr. 
Vanbergen  grasped  him  by  the  arm,  and  eagerly 
demanded,  in  what  he  meant  for  a  whisper  : 

"Ten  you  tolt  her?" 

"  Yes,  I  told  her,"  Jacob  answered,  placidly. 

"Ant  'tis  settlet?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  settled." 

"  Goot,  goot !  T'at's  vat  I  tolt  you  !  "  giving  Jacob 
a  lusty  blow  of  joyous  affection  upon  the  shoulder. 
"  Put  you  are  not  going  avay  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  get  Hendrik's  pigeons.  I  promised 
to  give  them  a  fly  this  afternoon." 


142  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"Ja,  veil.     Put  I  vant  to  talk  vit  you  pefore  you 

go." 

Jacob  went  out,  and  Mr.  Vanbergen  turned  exult- 
antly to  Mr.  Waring. 

"  Vat  vould  you  t'ink  of  Jacob  for  a  sons-in-law, 
Mr.  Varing,  he  ?  A  nice  young  fellows,  he  ? " 

"  A  likely  young  man,  I  should  say,  Vanbergen, 
and  very  suitable." 

"  Ja,  I  t'ink  so.     Ant  Luya  t'ink  so,  too." 

"I  congratulate  you.  Well,  are  the  accounts 
ready  for  my  inspection  ?  " 

"All  reaty,  Mr.  Varing.  Here  t'ey  are."  Mr. 
Vanbergen  opened  the  book  of  entries  lying  on  his 
desk. 

Mrs.  Vanbergen,  on  whose  kindly  face  there  was 
the  shadow  of  a  grief,  came  in,  followed  by  Marta 
bearing  a  bottle  and  a  stone  jug,  which  she  put  down 
on  the  dresser. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Waring  ? " 

"Well  enough,  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Vanbergen.  I 
need  not  ask  concerning  your  health.  I'm  sure 
Hygeia  herself  was  not  so  rosy  at  your  years." 

"Then  Hygeia  had  nothing  to  do  with  housework," 
Mrs.  Vanbergen  said,  turning  from  Mr.  Waring  to  the 
dresser.  "But  I  shall  give  an  extra  spice  to  your 
mulled  Madeira  for  the  compliment." 

"  Let  me  put  you  to  less  trouble.  If  you  will  give 
me  some  rum  in  a  thimble  of  hot  water,  I  shall  be 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  143 

more  obliged  to  you.  These  unheard-of  changes  of 
weather  get  into  my  bones,  and  rum,  though  I  detest 
it,  is  the  best  corrective  I  know  of." 

"Ja,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  volunteered,  from  the  writ- 
ing-desk, "  if  you  voult  trink  rum  all  t'e  time,  Mr.  Var- 
ing,  you  voult  neffer  haf  some  trouple  in  your  pones. 
I  haf  trunk  rum  until  I  hafn't  got  any  pones  to 
trouple."  Mr.  Vanbergen  shook  like  a  jelly  in  chuck- 
ling enjoyment  of  his  jest  at  the  expense  of  his  girth, 
and  reached  out  his  balance-sheet  to  Mr.  Waring. 

"  Did  I  hear  Mr.  Waring  asking  for  rum  ? "  Luya 
said,  as  she  entered  from  the  adjoining  room.  "  If 
you  will  let  me  serve  you,  I  know  a  way  to  make  a 
delicious  hot  drink  with  rum." 

"  If  you  know  a  way  to  make  rum  delicious,  Miss 
Vanbergen,  I  shall  be  glad  to  buy  the  secret  of  you 
at  your  own  price." 

"  I  am  not  sure  you  would  keep  your  part  of  the 
bargain  if  I  should  name  you  my  terms,  so  I'll  keep 
my  secret." 

Luya,  relieving  her  mother,  and  dismissing  Marta 
to  other  cares,  took  the  jug  to  fill  it  from  the  iron 
kettle  droning  its  pleasantly  monotonous  song  from 
a  bracket  over  the  fire. 

"  Will  you  take  luck  with  us  at  table  to-day,  Mr. 
Waring  ? "  Mrs.  Vanbergen  asked,  taking  the  table- 
cloth from  a  drawer  of  the  dresser. 

"Thank   you,  Mrs.  Vanbergen,  but  I  only  have 


144  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

time  for  my  usual  business  quarrel  with  your  hus- 
band. Besides,  you  know  I  have  the  habit  of 
later  dining." 

"Your  son  has  broken  over  that  rule  with  us," 
Mrs.  Vanbergen  suggested,  with  a  touch  of  grimness 
in  her  smile,  for  she  was  not  entirely  ignorant  of 
Mr.  Waring's  peculiar  prejudices. 

"  But  my  son  is  an  irresponsible  young  gentleman, 
Mrs.  Vanbergen,  who  conforms  to  very  few  rules, 
even  those  of  his  own  making."  He  began  running 
his  eye  up  and  down  the  sheet. 

Luya,  having  filled  the  jug,  obeyed  a  signal  from 
her  father,  and  came  to  him  on  her  way  to  the 
dresser. 

"  And  how  is  Mistress  Jacob  Wilbruch  ? "  he  asked, 
in  a  low  tone,  playfully  pinching  her  cheek  as  she 
bent  toward  him. 

"You  are  mistaken,  father;  I  have  said  no  to 
Jacob,"  she  whispered,  and  hurried  away. 

"  Vat !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Vanbergen,  betrayed  into 
a  violent  loudness  by  the  shock  of  emotion.  "  Is 
t'at  t'e  vay  it  vas  settlet  ?  " 

"  What's  the  matter,  Vanbergen  ? "  cried  Mr. 
Waring,  startled  by  the  sudden  outburst. 

"  Not'ings,"  replied  Mr.  Vanbergen,  gloomily  sink- 
ing into  himself.  Then,  feeling  a  necessity  to  make 
some  explanation  of  his  want  of  self-control,  and  yet 
unwilling  to  admit  that  his  hopes  were  utterly  dashed 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


145 


to  earth,  he  laughed  in  a  sobbing  sort  of  way,  rub- 
bing the  back  of  his  hand,  and  added,  "  I  t'ink  Luya 
spilt  some  hot  waters  on  me.  Voomans,  Mr.  Var- 
ing,  is  t'e  most  careless  peoples  t'at  t'e  goot  Got 
haf  mate.  T'ey  pring  all  our  trouples." 

"  And  some  of  our  blessings,  Vanbergen." 

"Oh,  t'ey  haf  t'eir  uses,  Mr.  Varing." 

"  And,  while  I  am  about  it,  papa,  shall  I  fill  a  cup 
for  you?" 

"  Oh,  ja  —  yes,"  said  Mr.  Vanbergen,  turning 
about  in  his  chair,  and  giving  a  thump  of  his  fist  to 
the  desk.  "Rum  is  your  only  'kill  tevil.'  I'll 
trink  some  vit  Mr.  Varing." 

"And  permit  me  a  like  privilege,  I  hope,  Mr. 
Vanbergen,"  Wallace  cheerily  called  in  through  the 
open  window.  "  The  town  knows  the  virtue  of 
your  rum,  —  and  I  believe  it  has  not  so  much  as  the 
stain  of  a  king's  tax  on  it." 

"Ton't  say  t'at,  Mr.  Vallace.  I  gif  t'e  king  a 
little  someting  —  quietly.  But  come  in,  —  you  shall 
haf  some." 

Wallace  disappeared  from  the  window  and  entered 
at  the  door  as  Mr.  Waring  received  his  cup  of  steam- 
ing spiced  rum  from  Luya.  A  better  student  of 
physiognomy  than  Mr.  Vanbergen,  Mr.  Waring  knew 
very  well  how  to  read  the  signs  "  writ  by  the  senti- 
ments on  nature's  vellum."  He  had  several  mental 
memoranda  relating  to  his  son  and  Miss  Vanbergen ; 


146  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

and  when  he  learned  that  Wallace  had  gone  so  far 
as  to  take  the  young  lady  to  the  dinner  at  the  East 
River  House,  thus  flinging  her,  as  it  were,  into  the 
very  face  of  Miss  Boylston,  he  was  strongly  tempted 
to  moralise  with  the  profligate  young  gentleman.  He 
had  been  restrained  by  the  consideration  that  paternal 
remonstrances  are  often  like  a  fan  to  smouldering 
embers.  He  had  not  forgotten  how  greatly  his  own 
rebellious  energies  had  been  stimulated  by  the  oppo- 
sitions of  an  incautious  father.  Indeed,  if  Mr.  Waring 
had  any  rule  to  govern  his  relations  with  his  son,  it 
was  based  on  the  sagacious  reflection  of  Eliphaz  the 
Temanite :  "  Should  a  wise  man  utter  windy  knowl- 
edge ?  Should  he  reason  with  unprofitable  talk  ? " 
He  managed  Wallace  by  indirection,  and  had  much 
faith  in  the  system.  So,  when  he  saw  the  exchange 
of  eloquent  pantomime  between  Luya  and  Wallace, 
as  the  young  gentleman  came  into  the  room  with 
engaging  assurance,  Mr.  Waring  felt  a  mischievous 
inclination  to  give  this  gallant  impudence  a  check. 

Therefore,  holding  the  cup  well  above  his  head 
in  the  most  courtly  fashion,  and  smiling  amiably  in 
Luya's  direction,  he  said,  banteringly  : 

"Miss  Vanbergen's  health,  and  my  congratula- 
tions on  the  happiness  that  has  come  to  her !  And 
I  hope,  Vanbergen,  the  young  man  will  prove  to  be 
an  excellent  son-in-law.  I  believe  he  is  a  very 
worthy  fellow." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  147 

He  sipped  his  rum,  glancing  over  the  rim  of  his 
cup  in  keen  enjoyment  of  the  effect  his  words  had 
produced  on  Wallace,  who  stood  as  if  struck  into 
a  consternation.  Luya  was  hardly  less  astonished, 
and  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanbergen  were  hopelessly 
confused. 

But  Wallace  did  not  take  long  to  find  his  tongue. 

"  Son-in-law  !  Who  the  devil  is  your  son-in-law, 
Mr.  Vanbergen  ?  —  for  I  swear  you  had  no  such 
creature  half  an  hour  ago.  I  fear,  sir,"  turning  to 
his  father,  "you  have  somewhat  anticipated  —  " 

Luya,  fearing  that  Wallace  might  be  hurried  into 
much  too  liberal  speech  by  his  ardour,  pulled  him  by 
the  sleeve,  as  she  said,  with  a  laugh  : 

"La,  Mr.  Waring,  if  your  father  has  been 
obliging  enough  to  choose  me  out  a  husband,  I 
hope  you  are  not  uncharitable  enough  to  rob  me  of 
him  ? " 

"  No,  by  my  faith,  I'd  rather  help  you  to  one ! " 
Wallace  exclaimed,  catching  her  meaning  and  re- 
covering his  emotional  balance.  "  But  I  hope  to  be 
as  soon  in  the  family  confidence  as  my  father." 

"Make  my  son  easy,  Vanbergen,  —  for  I'm  much 
to  blame  in  having  betrayed  your  secret ;  though  I 
did  not  think  'twas  a  confidence  you  gave  me." 

"  Bonder  and  duivels,  Mr.  Varing,  I  vas  a  fool ! 
I  spoke  too  quick.  I  haf  no  sons-in-law  !  I'm  very 
sorry  —  put  I  can't  help  it.  Jacob  is  such  a  tarn  pat 


148  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

talker  t'at  I  titn't  unterstant  him.  T'at  is  all.  T'ere 
is  t'e  cheque  for  seven  huntret  pounts,  your  share 
of  t'e  pusiness.  Vill  you  pe  goot  enough  to  sign  t'e 
receipt  ? " 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"  So,  madam,"  said  Wallace,  as  he  walked  with 
Luya  to  the  dresser  to  take  a  sip  of  her  brew,  "you 
have  taken  advantage  of  my  absence  to  have  a  scene 
with  Mr.  Wilbruch,  if  I  may  draw  conclusions  from 
what  I  hear  ? " 

«  Yes  —  poor  fellow  !  " 

"  You  pity  him  ?  That  is  a  dangerous  symptom. 
I  think  it  well  that  I  inquire  into  the  particulars. 
What  were  they  ?  I'm  curious  to  know." 

Luya  looked  up  at  him,  half  seriously. 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  tell  you  ? " 

"  Why  not  ? " 

"  Why  not !     Because." 

"  But  —  you  refused  him  in  terms  he  couldn't  mis- 
understand ? " 

"  Why,  I  believe  you  are  jealous,  Wallace  1  " 

"  I  am.  And  if  Jacob  has  found  his  tongue,  it 
does  not  become  me  to  keep  silence.  Does  Jacob 
know  that  it  is  I  who  —  " 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted  quickly,  as  if  the  question 
could  in  some  way  wound  anew  the  heart  she  thought 
was  full  enough  of  pain  from  her  refusal. 
149 


150  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  If  Jacob  knows,  the  others  should  know,  too.  I 
won't  deal  with  my  love  as  if  I  were  ashamed  of  it. 
I'll  not  have  Jacob  or  any  man  think  that  I'm  not 
proud  of  your  love.  Gad's  life!  now  that  the  sub- 
ject is  up  in  their  minds,  I'll  tell  our  fathers  while  I 
have  them  so  conveniently  together." 

"No,"  she  pleaded,  "not  now  —  not  while  I  am 
by!" 

"  Not  while  you  are  by !  " 

"  No  ;  I'm  afraid  of  your  father." 

"  You  mean,  you  think  he  will  have  the  bad  taste 
to  be  unpleasant  ?  Gad,  Luya,  if  I  had  any  real 
doubt  of  my  father's  common  sense,  I  could  make  no 
better  argument  to  correct  him  than  to  set  your  face 
before  him,  —  for  I  know  no  man  who  has  a  greater 
weakness  in  the  presence  of  delicate  beauty." 

"  Then  let  it  be  some  other  time.  It  would  seem 
to  me  to  be  ungenerous  if  it  should  come  so  soon 
after  — " 

"  Oh  !  "  Wallace  said,  impatiently,  cutting  in  upon 
her  thought.  "  You  are  much  too  scrupulous.  You 
have  a  mighty  fear  that  Mr.  Wilbruch  may  think  you 
have  no  lingering  fancy  for  him.  I  didn't  mean  that, 
either,"  he  hastily  added,  seeing  the  surprise  in  her 
eyes,  "  but  I  have  a  devil  of  a  temper  that  will  lay 
my  tongue  by  the  heels  in  spite  of  my  good  nature. 
Yet  I  swear  I  see  no  virtue  in  our  waiting." 

"  Veil,    are   you   satisfiet  ? "    Mr.    Vanbergen    de- 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  151 

manded,  as  Mr.  Waring  rose  from  the  desk  and 
buttoned  the  cheque  into  his  pocket. 

"  Quite.  You  are  most  exemplary,  Vanbergen, 
and  most  discreet.  Our  affairs  go  on  very  well,  and 
I  do  full  justice  to  your  business  judgment  — except 
that  I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake  in  putting  so 
much  of  your  money  into  the  dirt  of  New  York.  I 
am  told  that  you  have  even  bought  a  patch  of  ground 
toward  the  Palisades." 

"  Ja  ;  'twas  cheap." 

Mr.  Waring  shook  his  head  sagely. 

"  Buying  land  west  of  the  Broadway  is  much  the 
same  as  throwing  money  away." 

"That  is  what  I  tell  Evert,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen  said, 
ruefully,  taking  a  spoonful  of  broth  from  the  boiling 
pot  to  test  its  merits.  "  He  drives  very  good  trades, 
but  he  plays  strange  pranks  with  his  profits." 

"Mr.  Vanbergen  has  mor^e  faith  in  the  English 
than  the  English  have  in  themselves,"  Wallace  inter- 
posed. "He  may  be  wiser  than  the  rest  of  us,  Mrs. 
Vanbergen." 

"The  colonists  are  losing  loyalty,  or  such  blatant 
fellows  as  the  printer  Zenger  would  not  be  endured. 
They  are  beginning  to  awaken  the  distrust  of  our 
people  at  home,  —  and  that  is  bad  for  land  invest- 
ments, Vanbergen.  English  funds  are  safer." 

"T'at  may  pe  so.  But  t'ere  vill  pe  no  trouples, 
and  I  t'ink  New  York  vill  grow.  I'll  leave  my 


152  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

daughter's  chiltren  grount  enough  to  built  t'eir 
houses  on,  and  maype  somet'ing  to  built  t'e  houses 
vit,  besites." 

"  I  hope  so,  Vanbergen.  Shall  we  go,  Wallace,  or 
do  you  dine  at  home  to-day  ? " 

"  Well,  no,  father,  I'm  not  to  dine  at  home,"  Wal- 
lace answered,  hesitatingly,  glancing  toward  Luya, 
in  the  hope  to  find  an  encouraging  response  from 
her  eyes,  but  encountering  a  forbidding  frown  and 
shake  of  the  head.  "The  fact  is,  sir  —  " 

"'Tis  no  matter,"  Mr.  Waring  said,  affably.  "I 
dare  say  you  have  some  occasion  at  the  tavern. 
But  you  have  taken  to  reckless  play  of  late,  I  fear. 
I  do  not  wish  "to  keep  you  from  the  fashion,  and  to 
play  freely  is  a  gentleman's  necessity ;  but  if  you 
lose  too  freely,  I  might  as  well  squander  my  money 
as  Vanbergen  does  his  in  the  purchase  of  worthless 
land.  Have  a  care/i  he  gave  good-humoured 
warning,  as  he  went  toward  the  door,  "or  you 
will  have  to  marry  a  fortune  without  much  bait  to 
it." 

"  I  hope  you  count  happiness  a  fortune,  sir  ? " 

"  But  I  have  little  faith  in  happiness  without  for- 
tune." 

"  1  am  not  of  your  opinion,  sir." 

"  I  am  not  of  your  opinion,  also,  Mr.  Varing ;  he, 
vife  ?  T'e  pest  happiness  t'at  some  peoples  has, 
Mr.  Varing,  is  ven  t'ey  vork  togetter  vit  lofe  to 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  153 

make  t'eir  fortune.  T'en,  if  t'ey  miss  t'e  fortune, 
t'ey  haf  alreaty  hat  t'e  happiness." 

"  A  very  pretty  thing  in  books,  Vanbergen ;  but  it 
does  not  work  out  in  practice." 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  make  the  experiment,  father," 
Wallace  declared,  going  toward  Luya,  who  would 
have  been  glad  to  escape  him. 

"You  are  hardly  in  the  position,"  Mr.  Waring 
smiled.  "  I  have  anticipated  you.  You  begin  your 
quest  of  happiness  with  a  fortune  made  ready  to 
your  hand." 

"  Then,  sir,  you  cannot  deny  that  I  am  the  most 
favoured  of  men,  for  I  have  found  my  happiness  also 
ready  to  my  hand,  since  'tis  entirely  in  the  possession 
of  this  young  lady,"  taking  the  reluctant  and  really 
trembling  Luya  by  the  hand,  "whom  I  protest  to 
you  I  love  more  devotedly  than  I  value  life.  If  you 
approve,  sir,  —  indeed,  I  will  not  do  you  the  wrong 
to  doubt  that  you  have  approved  already,  and  so, 
Mr.  Vanbergen,  I  have  the  honour  to  demand  your 
daughter's  hand  in  marriage." 

Wallace  spoke  with  such  earnestness  and  decision, 
suiting  his  action  so  abruptly  to  the  word,  that  the 
others  were  struck  into  astonishment.  Mr.  Waring 
stood  with  his  hand  on  the  door-latch,  and  seemed 
transfixed  in  that  position  of  arrested  movement. 
Mrs.  Vanbergen  looked  as  if  she  were  expecting  the 
climax  of  a  tragedy,  and  Luya  herself  had  clung  to 


154  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

the  arm  of  Wallace,  vainly  attempting  to  arrest  by 
negative  tugs  and  murmurs  what  she  perceived  to  be 
an  ineffectual  avowal.  Mr.  Vanbergen  alone  seemed 
wholly  undisturbed,  the  only  visible  difference  being 
that  he  smoked  his  pipe  with  quick,  short  puffs, 
instead  of  by  the  slow  drawing  process  that  pro- 
claims the  mind  at  ease. 

"  You  lofe  him,  Luya  ?  "  Mr.  Vanbergen  asked,  in 
response  to  Wallace's  demand. 

"Yes,"  Luya  answered,  going  toward  the  spinet, 
her  courage  coming  back  with  the  answer. 

"Veil,  Mr.  Varing?"  he  asked,  invitingly,  looking 
toward  the  door  where  Mr.  Waring  stood. 

There  was  a  satirical  smile  on  Mr.  Waring's  lips, 
and  something  of  a  sneer  in  his  voice,  as  he  remarked, 
in  a  general  sort  of  apostrophe : 

"When  was  this  comedy  rehearsed?  Tis  acted 
to  the  nature." 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  find  no  amusement  in  what  con- 
cerns me  vitally,"  Wallace  began,  with  respectful 
firmness.  "  'Tis  a  matter  not  only  of  my  happiness, 
but  of  that  which  is  more  to  be  thought  of  —  " 

"  Much  more  to  be  thought  of,"  Mr.  Waring  quietly 
interrupted,  returning  into  the  room,  and  putting  his 
hat  under  his  arm,  that  he  might  take  one  hand  in 
the  other,  as  his  habit  was  in  oratorical  moments,  — 
"  much  more  to  be  thought  of,  since  'tis  a  matter  of 
common  sense,  your  position  in  the  world  and  your 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


155 


prospects  for  the  future.  I  am  not  one  of  the  play- 
acting sort  of  fathers,  my  dear  Wallace.  I  don't 
storm  and  bluster  in  the  first  scene,  to  end  with  a 
benevolent  pardon  in  the  last.  I  hope  I  take  a  prac- 
tical view  of  these  affairs,  as  I  do  of  others,  and  I 
quite  believe  that  a  man  of  your  years  should  be 
allowed  a  considerable  freedom  in  the  management 
of  his  life.  I  should  only  undertake  to  advise  you ; 
I  should  not  think  of  applying  compulsory  measures, 
even  to  the  extent  of  exercising  an  allowed  parental 
authority.  You  are  free  to  follow  your  own  inclina- 
tions, —  to  marry  whom  you  please.  Miss  Van- 
bergen,"  and  Mr.  Waring  made  a  polite  bow  in 
her  direction,  "  is,  no  doubt,  as  estimable  as  she  is 
attractive.  I  do  not  in  the  least  blame  you  for  find- 
ing charms  in  her.  I  should  question  your  taste  if 
you  did  not.  But  admiration  should  not  be  permitted 
to  override  judgment." 

Into  Mrs.  Vanbergen's  mild  countenance  came  an 
expression  of  offended  pride,  and,  with  her  head 
raised  with  more  than  common  dignity,  she  went  to 
where  Luya  stood,  pale  but  motionless,  intending  to 
lead  her  daughter  from  the  room.  But  Luya  was  of 
another  mind.  Mr.  Vanbergen  was  panting  out 
furious  puffs  of  smoke,  the  more  incensed  for  not 
clearly  understanding  the  half  Mr.  Waring  was  say- 
ing in  that  politely  cynical  monotone. 

Though  nothing  had  been  said  that  called  for  his 


156  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

resentment,  Wallace  felt  a  rising  indignation  against 
the  intimations  of  his  father's  diplomatic  speech,  and 
he  thought  to  put  an  end  to  the  situation  by  the 
heroic  anticipation  of  the  judgment  to  be  rendered. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  sir,"  he  began,  impetuously. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  my  dear  Wallace,"  Mr.  Waring 
said,  with  a  rebuking  gesture.  "  We  need  not  mince 
the  matter.  'Tis  wisest  to  look  things  fairly  in  the 
face.  In  plain  terms,  then,  you  belong  to  a  partic- 
ular world;  you  are  a  gentleman.  Mr.  Vanbergen 
is  —  a  tradesman,  —  a  very  worthy  one,  I  admit, 
but  —  " 

"  He  is  a  merchant,  Mr.  Waring,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
interjected,  with  an  earnestness  amounting  to  asper- 
ity, "  a  rich  merchant,  and  among  the  foremost 
citizens  of  New  York." 

"  And  one  with  whom  you  are  yourself  associated 
in  business,"  Wallace  added,  with  unnecessary  heat. 

"  Not  associated,"  Mr.  Waring  replied,  with  a  cor- 
rective emphasis  on  the  word.  "Mr.  Vanbergen 
uses  my  money  as  my  gardener  uses  my  garden 
implements,  —  but  I  am  not  a  gardener  because  I 
own  the  tools." 

"  For  shame,  sir !  "  cried  Wallace. 

"I  am  making  your  fortune  for  you,"  Mr.  Van- 
bergen said,  bluntly,  as  if  that  were  a  finality. 

Mr.  Waring  assented  gracefully. 

"  It  is  true,  Vanbergen,  that  the  money  I  place  in 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  157 

your  hands  brings  me  handsome  returns.  I  bow  to 
your  excellent  commercial  ability,  to  the  exercise 
of  which  my  capital  has,  you  must  confess,  greatly 
contributed.  I  hope  our  pleasant  and  mutually 
profitable  relations  may  long  continue  undisturbed. 
But  the  same  considerations  which  have  made  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  be  openly  identified  with  your 
enterprises  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  consent  to  a 
family  union.  I  am  much  grieved  to  be  at  the 
necessity  of  speaking  so  frankly,  especially,"  with  a 
deferential  bow,  "  in  Miss  Vanbergen's  presence.  It 
is  better,  however,  that  there  should  be  no  misunder- 
standing." 

"  I  think,  sir,  we  are  already  at  a  perfect  under- 
standing," Wallace  declared. 

Mr.  Waring  continued  addressing  Mr.  Vanbergen, 
without  heeding  the  interruption. 

"  If  my  son  chooses  to  marry  your  daughter,  Van- 
bergen, it  must  be  without  my  sanction.  If  he 
marries  without  my  sanction  —  well,  my  dear  Wal- 
lace, I  think  you  have  already  had  my  mind  on  the 
consequences  of  such  a  step.  While  you  do  not  go 
in  opposition  to  my  wishes,  all  I  have  is  freely  at 
your  command.  You  cannot  complain  that  I  have 
not  been  an  indulgent  father.  But  if  you  think 
proper  to  go  contrary  to  my  wishes,  you  must  look 
to  yourself." 

Mr.  Waring  bowed  and  turned  toward  the  door. 


158  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  So  be  it,  sir  !  "  Wallace  cried.  "  If  you  can  be 
unjust,  thank  God  I  can  be  independent !  I  choose," 
taking  Luya's  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"  You  are  your  own  master,  Wallace,"  Mr.  Waring 
assented,  calmly.  "  I  dare  say  you  can  get  on  with- 
out my  help.  But  if  you  go  on  in  this  fashion  of 
sacrificing  intelligence  to  sentiment,  you  will  find 
the  world  a  mischievous  adversary.  By  the  way, 
Vanbergen,  that  ship  is  expected  in  to-morrow,  I 
believe  you  said  ?  " 

"  Ja,  to-morrow,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  answered,  gruffly 
enough. 

"It  should  bring  a  pretty  penny."  Mr.  Waring 
opened  the  door. 

Luya  stepped  forward. 

"  Mr.  Waring ! "  she  said,  with  quiet  dignity, 
arresting  the  outgoing  of  that  gentleman.  She 
waited  until  he  had  come  into  the  room  and  closed 
the  door  again,  the  simple  authority  of  her  manner 
seeming  to  compel  the  civility.  , 

"  Yes,  Miss  Vanbergen  ? " 

"  It  is  true  my  father  is  a  tradesman,  as  you  call 
him,  and  so  were  his  father  and  his  grandfather  before 
him,"  pointing  to  the  solemn  Dutch  portraits  on  the 
wall.  "  Honourable  tradesmen  —  prosperous  trades- 
men, as  proud  in  their  way  as  you  in  yours,  Mr. 
Waring,  —  not  less  proud  because  they  made  their 
own  fortunes  and  earned  their  own  respectability. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  159 

And  I  am  proud  to  be  the  daughter  of  those  trades- 
men, —  merchant  tradesmen,  —  and  if  I  am  happy 
enough  to  be  the  wife  of  your  son,  it  shall  only  be 
after  you  have  come  to  my  father  to  ask  him  for  my 
hand." 

"  Ja>  P7  donder,  it  shall  pe  t'at  vay  ! "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Vanbergen,  flinging  his  pipe  against  the  hearth- 
stone with  savage  satisfaction.  "  Vife,  it's  time  for 
t'e  tinner." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WALLACE  remained  behind  Mr.  Waring  with  the 
purpose  to  exorcise  the  bad  effects  of  his  father's 
impiety,  —  for  he  thought  it  nothing  less  than 
impious  that  the  exalted  object  of  his  devoted 
affection  should  have  been  treated  with  so  much 
cynical  disesteem.  He  would  have  begun  by  tak- 
ing Luya  into  the  desolation  of  the  drawing-room, 
that  they  might  forge  in  the  fires  of  their  indigna- 
tion a  fine  resolution  not  to  be  made  the  marionettes 
of  a  caprice  that  he  regarded  as  being  the  very 
absurdity  of  tyranny.  But,  though  Luya's  heart 
would  have  been  very  glad  to  take  consolation  in 
this  wise,  her  pride  was  determined  on  the  sacrifice 
of  all  other  emotions  to  the  righteous  demands  of 
outraged  dignity ;  and  the  unmerited  punishment 
of  Wallace  necessarily  entered  into  the  scheme  of 
moral  readjustment.  In  short,  Miss  Vanbergen's 
spirit  was  up  in  arms,  and  she  believed  that  nothing 
would  ever  again  render  it  docile  but  the  proper 
humiliation  of  Mr.  Stephen  Waring. 

She  began,  therefore,  by  telling  Wallace  that, 
within  the  circumstances,  any  intimacy  between 
160 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  l6l 

them  was  no  longer  possible,  and  that  she  could 
not  hereafter  receive  him  at  the  house,  save  upon 
the  most  formal  footing,  and  she  would  feel  the 
more  obliged  to  him  if  his  visits  were  discontinued 
altogether. 

"  Good  heaven,  Luya !  I  hope  you  are  not  of 
a  mind  to  turn  me  away ! "  he  exclaimed,  aghast,  and 
with  an  appealing  look  from  her  to  her  parents. 

"  It  cannot  be  to  my  credit  to  keep  you  near  me," 
she  replied,  her  Spartan  quality  not  being  entirely 
proof  against  a  feeling  that  succeeded  in  giving 
a  certain  degree  of  unsteadiness  to  her  voice. 

"  Not  to  your  credit !  "  he  repeated.  "  Hang  me 
if  I  can  see  in  what  way  your  credit  shall  be  put  in 
peril  by  my  devotion  to  your  honour !  " 

"  Luya  is  certainly  in  the  right,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
interposed,  somewhat  to  the  young  lady's  regret. 
"Though  I  feel  that  we  have  much  reason  to  be 
offended  by  what  your  father  took  it  on  himself 
to  say,  'tis  not  to  be  denied  that  you  owe  your  father 
obedience,  or,  if  you  do  not,  we  owe  it  to  ourselves 
not  to  be  the  means  of  bringing  about  a  scandal." 

"Ja,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  assented,  impressively,  "t'e 
voomans  is  right,  Mr.  Varing,  and,  since  you  cannot 
marry  Luya,  'tis  petter  t'at  you  —  " 

"  But  I  mean  to  marry  her,  if  you  will  give  her  to 
me,"  Wallace  avowed,  with  ardour.  "  I'm  not  a  boy 
to  be  stood  in  a  corner,  Mr.  Vanbergen.  Gad's  life  1 


1 62  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

I'm  willing  to  have  my  father's  approbation,  but  I'm 
not  so  little  the  man  but  I  can  do  without  it  if  he  be 
unreasonable!  I  choose  a  wife  to  please  myself. 
If  he  be  not  pleased,  the  pity  is  with  his  want  of 
judgment." 

"  You  were  to  blame,  Wallace,  in  taking  your 
father  so  much  unaware,"  Luya  argued,  "for  I  would 
have  had  you  wait  till  he  should  like  me  better.  But 
'tis  now  too  late.  I  warned  you  that  I  could  not  do 
without  your  father's  consent  —  " 

"  Plague  take  his  consent,  Luya !  We  shall  do  as 
well  without  it  till  he  come  to  the  recovery  of  his 
reason." 

"He  must  come  to  that  recovery  first,"  she  said, 
smiling  at  the  turn  of  the  phrase,  but  none  the  less 
fixed  of  purpose  for  that.  "I  cannot  marry  one 
whose  father  is  ashamed  to  receive  me  as  his  daugh- 
ter." 

"But  he  shall  receive  you  and  be  proud  of  the 
privilege  !  He  shall  come  to  beg  you  —  " 

"Don't  count  on  that,"  she  said.  "But,  until  he 
does  come  —  " 

"  Don't  make  any  conditions  !  You  can't  turn  me 
away.  I  won't  be  turned  away.  After  all,  Mr.  Van- 
bergen,  if  I  displease  my  father,  'tis  through  no  fault 
of  my  own ;  and  if  I  merit  your  daughter  in  myself, 
I  hope  you  do  not  think  me  to  be  less  deserving  of 
her  because  my  father  shuts  his  purse  on  me  ? " 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  163 

Mr.  Vanbergen  was  not  the  man  to  say  that  the 
weight  of  a  purse  has  no  part  in  the  desirable 
make-up  of  a  son-in-law,  neither  was  he  the  father 
to  balance  his  daughter's  happiness  against  a  money- 
bag. 

"Veil,  Mr.  Varing,  as  long  as  Luya  haf  enough 
moneys  for  two  peoples  ve  von't  haf  to  t'ink  vat  you 
haf  in  your  purse.  It  makes  no  tifference  to  Luya 
vedder  you  haf  some  moneys  or  not  some,  ven  you 
come  to  her,  put,  as  Luya  haf  sait,  I  t'ink  your  fat'er 
hat  petter  sait  yes  pefore  ve  can  feel  glat  to  haf  you 
come  here  some  more." 

After  further  conversation,  in  which  it  became 
painfully  clear  to  him  that  Luya  was  strongly  fixed 
in  the  purpose  not  to  compromise  her  dignity  by  any 
form  of  surrender,  Wallace  left  the  house  not  sure 
whether  he  was  more  angry  with  his  father  than  pro- 
voked against  Luya.  He  thought  it  most  unreason- 
able that  a  girl  should  hold  so  stubbornly  by  a  scruple 
of  conduct  that  seemed  to  him  even  more  arbitrary 
than  his  father's  worldly  perversity.  He  was  half 
minded  to  try  the  virtue  of  piquing  Luya  into  com- 
pliance with  his  wish  by  manoeuvring  in  the  sunlight 
of  Miss  Boylston's  favours. 

But  when  he  had  gone  Luya  sat  down  to  the 
spinet  and  began  strumming  in  a  way  so  utterly  dis- 
consolate and  dejected  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
exchanged  several  gloomy  head-shakings,  the  mother 


1 64  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

even  going  so  far  as  to  shed  a  secret  tear  or  two  into 
the  corner  of  her  voluminous  apron. 

Hendrik,  who  never  in  vain  appealed  to  the  sym- 
pathies or  interest  of  Luya,  had  come  into  the  room 
noisily  at  the  promptings  of  appetite,  and,  oppressed 
by  the  solemnity  that  he  saw  in  the  face  of  his 
parents,  betook  himself  to  his  sister's  side. 

"What's  the  matter,  Luya?  What's  the  matter 
with  everybody  ?  " 

"There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  anybody, 
Hendrik.  Do  go  away.  I  don't  want  to  be 
annoyed." 

Hendrik's  eyes  opened  wide  in  amazement.  He 
moved  back  a  step,  the  better  to  contemplate  this 
strange  young  person  in  the  image  of  his  sister,  —  for 
his  real  sister  had  never  spoken  to  him  after  that 
manner.  But  Luya  repented  her  of  an  impatience 
that  had  struck  at  an  idol  in  the  child's  mind,  and, 
before  he  had  got  over  the  first  stage  of  his  hurt 
bewilderment,  her  arms  were  about  him,  and  her 
lips  were  making  her  peace  with  him. 

"  Luya  was  very  wicked  to  speak  so  unkindly," 
she  said,  "  but  she  wasn't  really  speaking  to  Hendrik, 
was  she,  dear  ?  For  she  was  thinking  of  some  one 
else  who  isn't  so  little,  nor  so  handsome  and  fine, 
either,  Hendrik." 

"  But  too  fine,  for  all  t'at,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  said, 
thinking  it  was  opportune  to  state  the  conclusions  of 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  165 

his  silent  reflections.  "  I  tell  you  vat  I  ton't  t'ink, 
Luya;  I  ton't  t'ink  it  is  goot  for  a  girls  to  marry 
apove  her  he't." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  papa  ? " 

"Just  what  I  should  like  to  know,  Evert,"  Mrs. 
Vanbergen  exclaimed,  arresting  her  employment,  the 
better  to  enlarge  her  opinion.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  her  marrying  above  her  head  ?  I'd  have  you 
remember,  Evert,  that  Luya  has  as  good  blood  in 
her  veins  as  any  that  flows  in  Mr.  Waring's  body. 
And  as  for  money,  for  all  you  make  so  little  show 
of  it,  I  dare  say  you  have  quite  as  much  as  Mr. 
Waring." 

"  T'at  may  pe  —  t'at  may  pe,  but  I  am  in  trate, 
and  Mr.  Varing  is  not  in  trate,  —  t'at  make  t'e 
tifference." 

"  So  much  the  more  shame  to  him  !  "  Luya  said, 
spiritedly,  "  since  he  is  willing  to  make  money  by  a 
means  he  pretends  to  despise,  —  as  if  the  law  were 
any  more  respectable  than  merchantry,  or,  indeed, 
were  half  as  respectable !  But  mother  is  right," 
starting  up  with  energy  and  pushing  Hendrik 
brusquely  out  of  her  way,  "  and  I  intend  to  show 
Mr.  Waring,  stiff-necked  and  proud  as  he  is,  that 
the  Vanbergens  are  not  to  be  pished  at !  " 

"Ja,  t'at  right!"  Mr.  Vanbergen  nodded  in  ap- 
proval, a  hopeful  smile  creeping  over  his  lips.  "  You 
mean  t'at  you  vill  marry  Jacob  ?  " 


1 66  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"No,"  Luya  replied,  standing  in  front  of  her 
father,  and  addressing  him  in  a  dictatorial  style 
that  admitted  of  no  contradiction.  "  I  mean  that 
we  are  going  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf."  She  began 
assisting  with  the  table  preparations.  "  We  are 
going  to  live  as  befits  our  fortune.  You  are  to 
take  the  position  to  which  you  are  entitled  as  one 
of  the  richest  citizens,  whose  ancestors  used  to  rule 
in  New  Amsterdam,  —  and  in  New  York,  too  !  You 
shall  set  about  getting  one  of  the  offices  you  have 
always  refused.  You  shall  be  mayor,  or  chamber- 
lain, or  sheriff,  or,  at  least,  alderman.  You  are  to 
have  position  with  authority.  And  you  are  going 
to  enlarge  your  business ;  but  you  are  to  do  it  with 
your  own  money  and  not  with  any  other  body's. 
The  first  thing  you  shall  do  to-morrow  is  to  tell  Mr. 
Waring  that  you  can  have  no  further  business  rela- 
tions with  him,  and  close  up  accounts.  Then,  after- 
ward, you  are  to  oppose  and  work  against  him  in 
every  way  you  can.  If  he  goes  into  business  with 
any  one  else,  you  will  do  all  you  can  to  cripple  him. 
If  you  can  ruin  him,  so  much  the  better.  Evert 
Vanbergen  is  said  to  be  the  shrewdest  trader  in 
New  York.  We'll  let  Mr.  Waring  find  that  out  in 
a  new  way.  We'll  see,  then,  what  he  will  have  to 
say  about  '  practical  interests '  and  '  family  considera- 
tions.' " 

During  this  vigorous  tirade,  the  delivery  of  which 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  1 67 

was  emphasised  by  the  force  with  which  articles 
were  put  down,  or  chairs  were  set  in  place,  Mr.  Van- 
bergen's  countenance  underwent  most  of  the  changes 
of  expression  to  which  it  was  adapted.  Bewilder- 
ment, consternation,  stupefaction,  were  the  degrees 
of  his  mental  excitation,  and  when  Luya  had  finished 
he  was  only  equal  to  murmuring,  from  the  chair  into 
which  he  had  sunk  on  the  talk  of  ousting  Waring 
from  the  business  : 

"  T'e  girl  is  mat ! " 

"Not  in  the  least  mad,  papa,  but  come  at  last 
to  my  senses.  I  find  it  ridiculous  that  we  should 
go  on  in  the  fashion  of  my  Dutch  grandfathers,  when 
the  rest  of  the  world  is  not  so  minded,  and  I  mean 
that  we  shall  do  as  our  rich  neighbours  are  doing. 
There  are  to  be  more  servants  in  the  house.  My 
mother  shall  set  up  her  drawing-room,  where  she 
may  do  needlework  at  her  leisure,  with  no  more  care 
of  the  house  than  to  govern  the  domestics.  I  mean 
to  have  my  chair  as  well  as  Miss  Boylston  has  hers, 
with  not  an  inch  of  gilding  the  less ;  and  you  shall 
fetch,  in  your  next  ship  from  England,  as  handsome 
a  carriage  for  my  mother  as  that  of  the  French 
drawing  I  have  in  my  room.  And  I'll  have  my 
gowns  from  London,  too,  though  I  dare  say  they  will 
be  no  more  to  look  at  than  the  ones  mamma  and 
I  have  made  from  the  plates  ;  but  'twill  sound  the 
better  in  the  telling.  In  brief,  papa,  I  choose  to 


1 68  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

remember  that  my  mother  is  a  gentlewoman,  and 
I  shall  have  the  air  of  a  gentlewoman's  daughter, 
which  I  shall  wear  the  easier  for  my  father's  wealth. 
I  mean  to  show  the  town  that  peacocks  are  not  the 
only  birds  with  handsome  feathers.  But  let  us  begin 
by  eating  our  dinner.  Come,  Hendrik,  dear,  I  know 
you  are  starved.  And  we'll  drink  this  bottle  of  old 
Madeira  that  was  brought  up  for  Mr.  Waring' s 
benefit,  but  waste  no  drop  of  it  in  drinking  his 
health." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  took  his  place  at  the  table  with 
a  sigh,  holding  up  his  hand  in  the  way  of  a  suppliant 
who  knows  that  he  supplicates  in  vain. 

"It  is  not  olt  Varing  she  is  going  to  ruin,  vife; 
it's  me." 

The  evolution  began  next  day  ;  for  Mr.  Vanbergen 
was  as  little  inclined  to  oppose  a  serious  wish  of 
Luya's  as  he  was  to  defy  a  law  of  nature.  He 
accepted  the  doctrine  of  St.  Paul,  that  "the  chil- 
dren ought  not  to  lay  up  for  the  parents,  but  the 
parents  for  the  children,"  and  he  drew  from  it  the 
logical  inference  that  whatever  the  parents  have  laid 
up  must  be  unreservedly  at  the  disposition  of  the 
children.  In  ordering  his  affairs  according  to  her 
pleasure,  Luya  was  but  working  her  will  with  her 
own ;  so  Mr.  Vanbergen  called  upon  Mr.  Waring  at 
his  house  in  prompt  obedience  to  her  decree.  He 
wasted  no  words  in  preliminaries. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  169 

"I  haf  come  to  say  t'at  we  must  settle  up  our 
pusiness  at  once,  Mr.  Varing,  ant  pring  the  partner- 
ship to  an  ent." 

Mr.  Waring  looked  at  him  blankly,  not  certain 
that  Mr.  Vanbergen  realised  what  he  was  saying. 

"Why  do  you  say  that,  Vanbergen?"  he 
demanded. 

"Pecause,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  replied,  innocently, 
"my  taughter  haf  tolt  me  to." 

Mr.  Waring's  laughter  did  not  usually  rise  above 
a  decorously  modulated  gurgle,  though  sometimes  his 
alert  sense  of  the  grotesque  in  the  ideas  of  others 
betrayed  his  reserve.  He  went  beyond  the  rule  in 
the  present  instance,  his  merriment  being  the  more 
immoderate  because  of  the  bewilderment  with  which 
Mr.  Vanbergen  regarded  him. 

"  Forgive  me,  Vanbergen,  but  I'm  damned  if  I've 
heard  anything  so  laughably  ridiculous !  'Tis  to 
please  Miss  Luya,  then,  that  you  come  to  cut 
in  half  your  business  this  fine  morning  ?  Come, 
then,  let  us  laugh  it  over." 

But  Mr.  Waring  ceased  to  find  the  idea  laughable, 
and  at  last  was  even  forced  into  losing  his  temper  by 
the  calm  insistence  of  Mr.  Vanbergen  that  his  daugh- 
ter's wish  must  serve  as  an  answer  to  any  and  every 
argument.  Finally,  in  his  exasperation,  he  kicked  a 
hassock  across  the  room,  exclaiming,  impatiently: 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Vanbergen  !  " 


I^O  Iff  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  Veil,  Mr.  Varing,  I  ton't  alvays  tell  people  vat 
I  t'ink  of  t'em,  ant  I  ton't  keep  account  of  vat  t'ey 
t'ink  of  me.  Two  men  haf  two  vays.  My  vay  is  to 
mint  my  own  pusiness  petter  as  somepoty  else  can 
mint  it  for  me.  Goot  tay,  Mr. Varing.  I  vill  trouple 
you  to  step  into  t'e  counting-room  to-morrow  ant  sign 
some  receipts." 

He  bowed,  starting  to  take  his  leave,  but  turned 
back,  with  a  broad,  deep-humoured  smile. 

"  I'll  gif  you  a  leetle  atvices.  If  you  vant  to  keep 
your  hant  in  pusiness,  t'ere  is  Nick  Harmsen  as  voult 
like  to  haf  more  money  to  trate  vit." 

When  Mr.  Vanbergen  had  bowed  himself  out,  the 
smile  on  his  lips  expanded  until  it  joined  with  the 
curved  lines  of  his  double  chin  and  furrowed  into 
them. 

"  If  he  voult  go  in  vit  Harmsen,  I  coult  leat  him 
into  tight  places,  pecause  Nick  Harmsen  alvays  toes 
vat  he  t'inks  I'm  going  to  to!  Veil,  veil, — t'at  voult 
pe  a  kluchtspel !  " 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

IT  is  an  axiom  of  gentlemen  who  have  had  the 
experience  that  nothing  will  so  soon  correct  a  bad 
temper  or  spoil  a  good  one  as  the  contrarieties  of 
the  card-table.  As  the  most  ill-natured  person  cannot 
resist  the  blandishments  of  luck,  —  which  he  invaria- 
bly attributes  to  his  own  excellence  of  skill  at  play, 
—  so  the  best-humoured  man  in  the  world  will  lose 
some  of  his  mirth  if  the  cards  hold  spiteful  to  the 
hurt  of  his  fortunes. 

When  Wallace  Waring  strode  away  in  fine  dudg- 
eon from  his  futile  efforts  to  persuade  Luya  to  his 
way  of  thinking,  he  was  in  the  very  mood  to  flout 
at  every  instrument  of  fate  but  the  bottle  and  the 
card-table.  The  world  is  never  more  like  a  ragged 
football  than  when  a  perverse  young  lady  has  set 
one's  mental  optics  askew,  and  the  disposition  to 
kick  out  viciously  is  sometimes  indulged  so  blindly 
that  the  kicker  is  well  beyond  the  confines  of  life 
before  he  is  aware  of  his  folly.  The  resort  to  the 
card-table  and  the  cheerful  spirit  of  the  vine,  instead 
of  to  the  river  or  a  willow  branch,  must  argue  a  cer- 
tain force  of  character  worthy  to  be  commended ; 
171 


1^2  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

and  the  directness  with  which  Wallace  made  for  the 
Black  Horse  Inn  proved  that  his  was  not  a  vacillat- 
ing soul,  at  least. 

He  ordered  Mr.  Todd,  the  tavern-keeper,  to  serve 
him  a  private  dinner  in  the  back  parlour,  and  furnish 
him  writing-materials  with  which  to  kill  the  tedium 
of  waiting.  He  eased  his  mind  in  some  pages  of 
fantastically  polite  cynicism,  which  was  calculated  at 
once  to  wring  the  heart  and  humble  the  pride  of  the 
recipient,  and  sent  it  post-haste  to  Miss  Vanbergen. 
His  dinner  being  served,  he  ate  with  the  sharper 
appetite  for  the  savage  pleasure  he  felt  in  the  mental 
picture  of  Luya  in  tears  over  his  masterpiece  of 
upbraiding.  But,  hunger  appeased,  and  the  civilised 
man  having  some  chance  to  be  heard  against  the 
natural  man,  some  pricks  of  conscience  urged  him  to 
write  a  penitent  retraction  ;  but,  recognising  in  this 
inclination  a  weakness  that  would  give  the  young 
lady  too  great  an  advantage  over  him  in  future 
emergencies,  he  proceeded  to  the  highly  commend- 
able office  of  drowning  remorse  in  its  favourite  liquid. 
The  wine  becoming  a  counsellor  after  a  half  dozen 
preparatory  glasses,  Wallace  summoned  Mr.  Todd, 
and  desired  to  know  of  him  if  there  were  a  comfort- 
able and  well-appointed  room  in  the  house  that  could 
be  put  to  his  permanent  use,  declaring  that  he  had 
a  mind  to  try  for  a  time  the  merits  of  a  tavern 
domicile. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  173 

"I  hope,  sir,"  ventured  Mr.  Todd,  whose  great 
respect  for  the  elder  Waring  made  him  solicitous, 
"there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  quit  your  home." 

"  And  what  if  there  were,  Todd  ?  Would  the  price 
of  your  room  be  any  the  less  welcome  ?  Gad,  man, 
learn  not  to  be  inquisitive,  —  or  do  you  fear  that  I 
shall  lack  the  means  to  pay  you  ?  " 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Mr.  Waring,  I  think  you  know 
me  better.  'Twas  my  love  of  your  father,  and  no 
fear  of  his  son,  that  bade  me  ask  the  question." 

"Then  let  some  little  of  your  love  be  my  servant, 
Todd,  and  pick  me  out  such  a  room  as  I  may  care  to 
sleep  in  when  I  find  time  for  sleeping.  And,  Todd, 
if  the  villain  you  sent  with  the  letter  I  writ  but  now 
come  with  an  answer  to  it,  I  hope  you  know  what  is 
proper  should  be  done  with  it." 

"You  shall  have  it  directly,  sir.  Will  you  wait 
here,  or  are  you  of  a  mind  to  join  the  gentlemen 
up-stairs  ? " 

"  Are  they  met  already,  Todd  ?  " 

"  You  have  spent  a  good  time  at  dinner,  sir.  'Tis 
past  four  o'clock." 

Wallace  chose  to  join  the  gentlemen  up-stairs,  the 
party  at  the  tables  including,  as  usual,  Lieutenant 
Willett,  Philip  Ashton,  and  Allen  Bradford,  who 
welcomed  him  to  a  place  in  their  corner.  The  pas- 
sion for  gambling  was  the  more  sedulously  cultivated 
for  the  reason  that  other  exciting  means  to  the  em- 


174  W  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

ployment  of  high  spirits  were  few  and  of  much 
inferior  interest.  It  was  so  much  the  occupation  of 
the  select  society  which  scorned  to  be  connected  with 
trade,  that  the  ladies  of  the  fashionable  circles  were 
but  less  inveterate  players  than  the  gentlemen,  and 
to  have  lost  prodigiously  was  so  much  a  virtue  in  the 
drawing-room  code  of  gallantries  that  a  young  gen- 
tleman who  squandered  his  estate  at  a  sitting  was  the 
hero  of  the  ladies  and  the  envy  of  the  gentlemen  for 
near  a  twelvemonth  after.  This  being  the  familiar 
spirit  of  play,  Wallace  was  not  like  to  lay  his  stakes 
any  the  more  guardedly  than  common  because  of  his 
mind's  rebellion  against  the  malice  of  man  in  general 
and  woman  in  particular.  The  more  steadily  luck 
went  against  him,  the  more  he  became  convinced 
that  it  was  necessary  to  show  himself  defiant  of  the 
whips  and  scorns  of  conspiring  fatalities ;  and  when, 
at  midnight,  the  session  was  adjourned,  under  Mr. 
Todd's  regulations,  he  had  a  sort  of  grim  satisfaction 
in  the  hazy  consciousness  that  he  owed  Lieutenant 
Willett  something  better  than  a  thousand  pounds, 
which  his  father  would  have  to  pay.  This  was  a 
pinch  of  revenge  to  sweeten  his  heavy  dreams. 

At  a  reasonably  early  hour  the  next  forenoon 
Wallace  went  to  have  an  interview  with  his  father, 
arriving  while  that  gentleman  was  still  ruffled  from 
his  unpleasant  scene  with  Mr.  Vanbergen.  Wallace 
came  into  the  library,  where  his  father  was  soothing 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  1 75 

himself  with  one  of  Brantome's  quaint  French  dis- 
courses on  feminine  gallantry,  a  favourite  means 
with  him  of  restoring  his  temper  to  a  complacent 
poise. 

Mr.  Waring  looked  up  from  his  book  and  nodded, 
smiling  a  little  dryly. 

"  I  had  not  thought  to  have  the  honour  of  seeing 
you  so  soon.  Have  you  fallen  into  difficulties  ? " 

"  You  bring  me  sharply  to  the  point,  sir." 

"  What  is  the  amount  ? " 

"  A  thousand  pounds  one  way  or  the  other,  sir." 

"  And  to  whom  do  you  owe  it  ?  " 

"  Lieutenant  Willett." 

"  Umph  !     Your  rival." 

"  My  rival,  sir  ?     In  what  fashion,  pray  ? " 

"  In  paying  his  addresses  to  Miss  Boy  1st  on." 

"Then,  sir,  I  bid  him  Godspeed  with  all  my 
heart,  and  have  a  cordial  wish  to  keep  him  on  his 
journey." 

"  Are  you  worth  a  thousand  pounds  ? " 

"If  not  put  to  a  forced  sale,  the  niggers  and 
horses  I  have  might  fetch  as  much.  But  I  hope  not 
to  be  to  the  inconvenience  of  parting  with  them." 

"  Then  I  do  not  see  by  what  means  you  are  to  pay 
Lieutenant  Willett." 

Wallace  started  in  astonishment. 

"  Do  I  understand,  sir,  that  you  will  not  meet  this 
obligation  ? " 


176  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

"  Why  should  I  ?     'Tis  none  of  mine." 

"  But  'tis  mine,  sir,  which  conies  to  the  same 
thing,  as  you  have  taught  me  to  believe." 

"Under  the  right  conditions,"  Mr.  Waring  as- 
sented, turning  his  book  down  on  his  knees  and 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  the  tips  of  his  fingers 
brought  together  philosophically.  "  In  all  relations 
there  must  be  equivalent  values.  My  purse  is  always 
open  to  my  son ;  but  my  son  is  not  so  many  feet  of 
flesh  and  blood,  merely.  What  is  termed  the  natural 
bond  of  union  has  very  little  force  with  me,  my  dear 
Wallace ;  in  fact,  I  doubt  that  I  give  it  an  important 
place  in  my  theory  of  human  alliances.  That  seems 
to  shock  you.  That  is  because  you  have  not  medi- 
tated the  subject.  I  can  set  you  on  the  right  track 
in  a  word.  You  will  admit  that  a  man  may  be  a 
father  without  knowing  it.  If,  after  some  years,  he 
should  encounter  the  child,  still  being  in  ignorance 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  a  child,  do  you  imagine  the 
natural  bond  would  be  strong  enough  to  inform  him 
of  his  paternity  ?  " 

"  I  think  your  illustration  is  very  foreign  to  the 
matter,  sir,  since  you  cannot  profess  to  be  in  igno- 
rance of  your  responsibility  in  my  case." 

"  The  illustration  is  not  so  irrelevant  as  you  seem 
to  imagine;  but  I  perceive  that  you  are  impatient. 
I  shall  put  the  point  differently.  The  real  bond  of 
union  between  individuals  is  moral,  —  that  is  to  say, 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  Iff 

it  has  to  do  with  conditions  of  the  mind  and  heart. 
Parents  love  their  children  and  children  their  parents, 
not  because  of  the  begetting,  but  because  of  the 
affection  developed  by  association  and  by  the  thou- 
sand considerations  of  attachment  by  dependence. 
Interrupt  these  relations  by  protracted  separations, 
and  the  so-called  natural  bond  will  cease  to  be  opera- 
tive. The  alliance  is  then  a  moral  one  entirely. 
Break  the  moral  tie,  and  the  nearest  kindred  are 
no  more  to  each  other  than  any  of  the  other  un- 
related factors  of  the  body  social.  Two  men  who 
are  brought  together  by  common  interests  and 
agreed  sentiments  may  be  much  more  closely  united 
in  affection  than  a  father  and  son  whose  interests  are 
widely  different.  Do  you  follow  me  ?  " 

"I  understand  your  argument,  but  I  am  not  so 
fortunate  as  to  see  its  application." 

"  This  is  the  application.  As  you  are  a  handsome 
fellow,  with  the  appearance  becoming  a  gentleman, 
I  have  a  reasonable  pride  in  the  knowledge  that  I  am 
your  father.  But  the  interest,  —  I  need  not  hesitate 
to  use  a  stronger  word,  —  the  love  I  have  for  you  as 
my  son  is  of  a  twofold  character :  first,  you  have 
been  the  dependent  object  of  my  care  for  more  than 
twenty-five  years,  and  that  in  itself  would  create  a 
strong  feeling  of  attachment  to  you;  second,  you 
have  been  the  subject  of  my  ambitious  dreams  since 
a  broken  health  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  con- 


178  .  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

tinue  in  the  way  of  ambition  I  had  marked  out  for 
myself.  If  you  cease  to  be  dependent  on  me,  you 
impair  one  of  the  bonds  of  attachment ;  if  you  refuse 
to  meet  my  expectations  with  regard  to  your  future, 
you  weaken  the  second  of  those  bonds.  The  result 
would  be  that  I  should  cease  to  regard  you  as  a 
son  and  be  very  apt  to  forget  even  that  you  are  my 
offspring." 

"  Well,  sir  ? "  Wallace  asked,  after  some  moments 
of  silence. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  definitely  settled  with  Miss 
Vanbergen  as  to  your  marriage  with  her  ? " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  admit  that  the 
young  lady  will  not  have  me  without  your  con- 
sent." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Waring,  brightening,  and  chang- 
ing his  position  into  one  of  less  severity  of  angle. 
"Then  matters  have  not  gone  as  far  as  I  feared. 
Come,  Wallace,  things  are  not  so  bad.  So !  So ! 
She  is  not  for  marrying  a  beggar,  after  all!  I 
thought  it  was  out  of  nature  that  the  young  minx 
should  take  you  without  a  penny.  'Twas  not  like 
her  father's  breed." 

"  Father !  "  roared  Wallace,  springing  to  his  feet. 

"  Good  God  ! "  said  Mr.  Waring,  nervously,  not  a 
little  startled  by  the  outburst.  "Be  not  so  vehe- 
ment, my  dear  Wallace !  What  brings  you  to  your 
feet  so  suddenly  ? " 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  .        179 

"  Sir,  I'll  not  hear  Miss  Vanbergen  ill-spoken  of, 
even  though  it  be  by  you  !  " 

"  Nor  shall  you,  for  I've  no  thought  to  speak  of 
her  at  all.  Sit  down." 

"  But  I  desire  that  you  do  speak  of  her,  though 
in  the  manner  I  would  have  you  speak  of  the  lady 
I  hope  to  have  for  my  wife.  I  was  much  in  the 
wrong  to  offend  you  as  I  fear  I  did  on  yesterday; 
but,  sir,  I  dare  say  you  can  make  allowance  for  a  heat 
into  which  I  was  surprised  by  an  opposition  you  can- 
not have  meant  to  push  to  an  extremity,  had  I  been 
better  guarded.  I  most  sincerely  crave  your  pardon. 
I  hope,  sir,  you  have  never  found  me  ungrateful  nor 
unmindful  of  the  duties  that  a  loyal  son  owes  to  an 
indulgent  father,  and  I  hope  more  worthily  to  com- 
mand your  approbation.  Help  me  to  the  occasion  by 
giving  your  consent  to  a  marriage  that  I  shall  make 
the  means  to  the  gratification  of  your  hopes  in  me. 
Let  me  have  the  woman  that  I  love,  and  you  shall 
command  me  to  any  after  course  that  your  judgment 
shall  dictate.  She  will  do  you  as  much  honour  as 
your  daughter  as  the  lady  you  prefer  to  her;  and 
if  you  object  that  her  father  is  not  in  all  respects 
what  you  would  have  him,  the  objection  is  not  so 
weighty  that  it  need  keep  me  from  a  wife  fit  to  adorn 
any  society  into  which  I'm  likely  to  have  the  right  to 
introduce  her.  Give  me  your  consent,  without  which 
I  cannot  have  her,  for  she  has  as  stubborn  a  pride  as 


180      .  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

your  own,  and  you  may  shut  your  purse  against  me 
from  that  moment.  I  dare  believe  I  have  the  wit 
to  keep  a  wife  that  fortune  puts  into  my  care. 
Make  what  terms  with  me  you  please,  if  you  but 
give  your  consent.  Well,  father?  What  do  you 
answer?" 

"  I  am  more  than  twice  your  age,  Wallace.  I  don't 
speak  from  impulse.  My  judgments  are  carefully 
made  up,  after  a  thorough  consideration  of  the  ques- 
tions. I  know  the  world  better  than  you  do.  I  see 
clearer  than  you  what  are  a  young  man's  best  oppor- 
tunities. I  have  planned  a  way  for  you  to  thrive  in. 
Boylston  is  a  trusted  financial  agent  of  the  Crown, 
and  has  a  certain  influence  in  court  circles.  That  is 
my  answer." 

"  You  will  not  consent  to  my  marriage  with  Miss 
Vanbergen  ? " 

«  No." 

Wallace  took  up  his  hat,  his  face  pale,  his  lips 
compressed  tightly,  as  if  to  keep  back  an  unseemly 
violence,  and  went  toward  the  door  with  very  credit- 
able dignity.  Then  he  turned  about,  and  looked 
steadily  at  his  father  for  some  seconds,  the  eyes  of 
the  two  men  having  much  the  same  expression 
in  them, — a  mingling  of  defiance  and  regret  not 
at  all  easy  to  describe. 

"You  have  brought  me  up,"  Wallace  said,  at 
length,  "  to  have  my  own  way,  only  that  you  might 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  l8l 

put  me  under  the  screw  in  the  most  serious  interest 
of  my  life.  You  have  been  preparing  me  all  these 
years  to  play  as  a  hazard  in  your  schemes  of  ambi- 
tion, and  you  would  dice  with  my  heart  now  to  flatter 
your  vanity.  Well,  sir,  I  may  tell  you  for  your 
instruction  that  I  will  marry  a  bawd  who  pleases 
me  rather  than  take  the  perfected  model  of  her  sex 
on  compulsion.  Since  the  condition  of  my  remain- 
ing your  son  is  my  submission  to  your  will  in  the 
choice  of  my  wife,  I  have  the  honour,  sir,  to  bid  you 
good  day  and  farewell." 

Wallace  bowed  very  profoundly,  and,  without 
waiting  to  be  answered,  quitted  the  room. 

Mr.  Waring  took  up  his  Brantome  and  went  on 
reading. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

OWING  to  the  fact  that  the  band  from  the  Fort 
was  to  give  one  of  its  infrequent  concerts  from  the 
extemporised  platform  near  the  bowling-green,  the 
Parade  was  more  than  ordinarily  democratic,  and,  for 
the  reason,  more  pictorial  this  afternoon.  Fashion 
came  for  its  indolent  promenade  and  lively  gossip, 
but  the  humbler  sort  of  folk,  especially  the  rustics 
from  the  upper  village,  were  gathered  in  numbers 
from  sheer  delight  in  the  military  music.  The 
crowd  found  additional  entertainment,  too,  in  a 
variety  of  sports  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
of  the  Fort,  there  being  lusty  youths  and  burly 
young  men,  representatives  of  agriculture  and  com- 
merce, as  well  as  stalwart  fellows  from  the  ships, 
who  vied  with  one  another  in  lifting  or  pulling 
weights,  in  jumping  and  wrestling,  in  running  and 
vaulting,  to  the  admiration  of  the  buxom  young 
women  who  were  not  above  bestowing  a  kiss  upon 
the  swain  who  proved  the  greater  prowess.  Nor 
did  the  quiet  game  of  bowls  want  for  champions, 
it  being  esteemed  by  some  excellent  defenders  the 
182 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  183 

prettiest  pastime  for  a  tranquil  spirit  that  the  in- 
genuity of  man  has  contrived  for  his  recreation.  The 
promenade  was  now  generally  confined  to  the  upper 
end  of  the  Parade,  in  the  mall  overarched  with  trees ; 
but  the  beaus  and  ladies  found  a  pleasure  on  these 
rare  occasions  in  extending  their  walk  to  overlook 
the  sports,  because,  in  that  wise,  they  could  have  the 
agreeable  excitement  of  laying  wagers  upon  contend- 
ing sides,  the  ladies  being  more  eager  than  the  gen- 
tlemen to  risk  their  guineas,  and  not  in  the  least 
disposed  to  suffer  the  indignity  of  polite  concessions 
to  their  sex  in  the  matter  of  chances.  They  backed 
their  judgments  with  enthusiasm,  and  asked  no  favour 
of  any  one,  parting  with  their  money  with  as  light 
a  hand  and  as  cheery  a  countenance  as  they  might 
have  thrown  table  crumbs  to  the  robins.  It  was  the 
practice  of  the  light  world  to  be  gay,  and  as  a  gen- 
tleman of  the  mode  could  not  afford  to  be  seen 
abroad  without  his  sword,  or  a  lady  of  fashion  with- 
out her  snuff-box,  so  it  was  impossible  the  two  should 
meet  where  the  occasion  allowed  without  laying  a 
wager,  not,  truly,  of  a  magnitude  to  cripple  the  los- 
ing purse,  but  large  enough  to  make  an  afternoon's 
idling  hour  some  degrees  more  pleasurable. 

The  reverend  gentlemen  who  thundered  anathemas 
from  the  pulpit  against  the  growing  vice  of  tea- 
drinking,  and  predicted  for  its  devotees  every  sort  of 
physical  ill  in  addition  to  the  moral  decay,  were  much 


1 84  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

milder  in  their  rebuke  of  the  prevalent  taste  for 
gambling,  so  that  piety  itself  did  not  scruple  to  set 
a  trifling  money  value  on  its  opinions  which  of  two 
bowlers  would  have  the  larger  score. 

Wallace  Waring  came  late  upon  the  scene,  because 
of  the  delay  to  which  he  had  been  put  in  the  quest 
of  a  purchaser  of  the  negroes  and  horses  he  wished 
to  convert  into  cash.  There  was  not  a  pressing 
demand  for  negroes  at  the  time,  for  the  reason  that 
the  worthy  citizens  were  not  yet  entirely  free  from 
the  fears  and  apprehensions  aroused  four  years  ago, 
when  half  a  hundred  negroes  were  burned,  hanged, 
and  otherwise  put  out  of  existence  before  it  was 
discovered  that  there  really  had  been  no  organised 
conspiracy  to  massacre  the  whites,  as  was  generally 
believed.  Wallace  came  from  the  Exchange  with 
his  human  chattels  unsold,  troubled  by  a  certain 
anxiety  that  the  sun  might  go  down  on  his  debt 
to  Lieutenant  Willett  undischarged.  It  was  an  awk- 
ward position  for  a  sensitive  gentleman,  since  to 
have  gambled  in  excess  of  his  ability  to  pay  con- 
stituted an  offence  against  society  more  heinous 
than  the  fracture  of  any  half-dozen  articles  of  the 
decalogue.  It  was  not  his  nature,  however,  to  con- 
fess judgment  by  fall  of  countenance,  and  he  moved 
through  the  groups  of  people,  bowing  and  chatting 
right  and  left,  as  he  passed  or  encountered  friends 
of  either  sex,  with  as  assured  an  air  as  if  his  cheque 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  1 85 

were  exchangeable  for  the  total  deposits  in  the 
Boylston  bank. 

He  found  it  more  difficult,  however,  to  dissemble 
the  emotions  produced  by  the  vision  of  Miss  Van- 
bergen,  more  radiant  in  satin  and  laces  than  he  had 
ever  seen  her,  and  as  abandoned  to  levity  as  if  love's 
disasters  were  the  very  source  and  origin  of  life's 
contentment.  He  tormented  himself  by  avoiding  her, 
imagining  that  he  was  thus  rebuking  her  disregard 
of  the  letter  he  had  sent  her  from  the  hotel.  The 
better  to  make  it  appear  that  he  was  in  no  haste 
to  condone  her  misconduct,  he  devoted  himself  with 
a  great  show  of  satisfaction  to  the  entertainment  of 
Miss  Boylston,  spending  more  time  by  her  side  than 
proper  civility  to  other  ladies  would  have  allowed  him. 
When  at  last  he  came  upon  Miss  Vanbergen,  he  gave 
the  meeting  the  appearance  of  an  accident.  Never- 
theless, he  managed  to  disengage  her  from  the  others 
very  soon,  and,  forgetting  under  the  irritation  of  her 
smiles  and  vivacity  that  he.  was  to  play  the  r61e  of 
indifference,  fell  promptly  to  upbraiding  her  heart- 
lessness. 

"My  letter  did  not  touch  you,  then,  it  seems, 
madam  ? " 

"Your  letter!  Why,  I  thought  it  an  accusation 
drawn  against  some  confirmed  misdemeanant  and 
sent  to  me  in  error !  I  read  but  the  first  half-dozen 
lines  and  clapped  it  into  the  fire,  —  or,  if  I  read  it 


1 86  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

through  and  after  forgot  to  burn  it  the  consequence 
was  the  same,  for  my  mind  has  not  so  much  as  a 
trace  of  it.  What  did  you  say  ? " 

"I  said  that  you  are  the  most  cruelly  unjust 
of  women  that  ever  pretended  to  love  ;  and  that  your 
excuse  not  to  have  me  because  my  father  mistakes 
his  authority  is  but  the  admission  that  you  had  no 
serious  thought  of  me  at  all." 

"Yes,"  Miss  Vanbergen  answered,  meditatively, 
seeming  to  be  making  a  mental  effort  to  reconstruct 
the  letter,  "  I  think  I  remember  something  to  that 
effect,  but  more  feelingly  put.  And  was  there  not, 
also,  a  clause  to  release  the  guilty  woman  from  fur- 
ther responsibility  to  her  accuser  ?  It  seems  to  me 
I  have  a  recollection  of  the  words,  '  You  are  free, 
madam,  to  go  your  way  after  him  who  may  be  better 
worth  your  having,  since  I  should  scorn  to  hold 
you  to  a  promise  given  with  so  little  courage  to  its 
keeping ' ! " 

"  There  was  no  such  thing  in  the  letter,  Luya !  " 

"  I'll  send  it  to  you  for  your  reading.  There  may 
be  other  items  in  it  you  would  wish  to  memorise. 
You  may  have  occasion  to  make  use  of  them  to  some 
other  ladies  of  your  acquaintance." 

"Luya,  don't  treat  the  matter  lightly!  Why 
should  you  punish  me  for  my  father's  fault? " 

"Why  should  your  father  punish  me  for  my 
father's  virtues?"  she  began,  laughingly,  but  her 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK,  1 8/ 

manner  abruptly  changed,  and  she  took  his  arm. 
"  Wallace,  I'll  answer  what  you  said  in  your  letter, 
brutal  though  it  was,  and  resolved  as  I  was  never  to 
answer  it.  I  do  love  you,  —  enough  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing for  you,  —  but  I  love  you  too  well  to  let  you 
sacrifice  yourself.  I  know  you  well  enough.  You 
are  too  proud  to  let  me  help  you.  If  you  should 
marry  me  without  your  father's  consent,  it  would 
mean  a  life  of  struggle  for  you,  for  you  would  not 
let  it  be  said  that  her  father's  money  was  your  wife's 
support  and  yours.  I  shouldn't  mind  the  struggle 
for  myself,  —  I  should  love  to  be  your  helpmeet  in 
whatever  way  we  might  begin,  —  but  I  could  not 
bear  to  have  it  said  that  I  had  dragged  you  down, 
that  your  love  for  me  had  robbed  you  of  the  advan- 
tages your  father's  wealth  and  influence  would  have 
accorded  you." 

"  Good  heaven,  Luya !  you  talk  as  if  I  were  with- 
out any  sort  of  ability  to  make  my  way  in  the 
world." 

"  What  could  you  do  ?  " 

"Anything  I  have  the  will  to  undertake." 

"  Make  the  beginning.  We  are  young.  There  is 
no  haste.  I  will  wait  for  you.  And  then,  if  you 
should  change  your  mind  —  " 

"  I'll  never  do  that.  I  shall  love  you  to  the  end 
of  my  days." 

"  And  trust  me  ?  " 


I  88  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

*'  How  can  you  ask  the  question  ? " 

"Because  I  have  a  letter  of  yours  in  the  house 
that  —  " 

"  Burn  it,  sweetheart ;  'twas  writ  by  a  madman." 

Allen  Bradford  approached  them,  saluting  Miss 
Vanbergen  with  the  air  of  a  privileged  friend,  for 
Bradford  was  in  the  secret  of  her  tender  relations 
with  Wallace,  though  not  yet  aware  of  the  unfavour- 
able turn  in  the  course  of  love.  As  they  strolled  on 
together,  exchanging  those  trifles  of  artful  common- 
place which  fall  from  the  conversation  of  the  friend- 
liest trio  when  two  of  them  are  lovers,  Wallace  saw 
Lieutenant  Willett  in  the  act  of  taking  leave  of  Miss 
Boylston. 

"  I  have  need  to  speak  with  Lieutenant  Willett," 
he  said,  excusing  himself,  and  hastening  to  join  the 
lieutenant,  whom  he  overtook  at  the  green,  where 
Jacob  was  bowling  with  three  or  four  of  his  farmer 
friends. 

"  May  I  have,  a  word  with  you,  lieutenant  ? " 

"  A  dozen  of  them,  Waring ;  though  I  swear  you 
don't  look  as  if  they  were  to  be  merry  ones." 

"  They  are  not,  lieutenant,  and  I'm  damnably 
embarrassed  how  to  choose  them." 

They  paused  by  an  isolated  bench,  in  view  of  the 
players  but  out  of  their  hearing;  though,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  Wallace  cared  little  enough  who 
might  hear  what  he  believed  to  be  a  frank  and  manly 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  189 

avowal  of  difficulties  he  had  no  reason  to  think  dis- 
creditable to  his  honour.  In  a  day  or  two,  at  most, 
the  town  at  large  would  know  that  he  had  fallen 
upon  his  own  resources. 

"  'Tis  about  the  thousand  pounds  I  lost  to  you." 

"  Well,  what  of  them  ?  "  the  lieutenant  asked,  with 
a  smile  that  betrayed  a  suspicion  of  the  facts. 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  haven't  the  present  means 
of  paying  them,  unless  you  will  take  in  their  place  a 
parcel  of  niggers  and  some  riding  stock  that  make  up 
my  fortune." 

The  lieutenant  put  one  foot  on  the  bench  and 
leaned  his  elbow  on  his  knee. 

"I'm  not  in  trade,  you  know,  Waring." 

The  lieutenant,  who  imagined  Wallace  a  formidable 
rival  to  the  hand  of  Miss  Boylston,  which  he  was  of 
a  purpose  to  have  for  himself,  was  rather  pleased 
to  have  his  thousand  pounds  so  advantageously 
invested. 

"  I  offer  them,"  said  Wallace,  "  to  your  acceptance 
as  a  sort  of  surety,  and  shall  be  most  willing  to  con- 
stitute myself  your  agent  to  turn  them  into  cash." 

"  It  were  simpler,"  said  the  lieutenant,  with  that 
excess  of  politeness  which  is  akin  to  insolence,  "to 
ask  me  to  give  you  time  in  which  to  pay  your  debt. 
I  doubt  if  your  cattle  will  fetch  the  amount.  I 
think  I  may  as  profitably  take  your  word  as  your 
niggers." 


I gO  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  I  hope  you  lay  no  question  on  my  word,  Lieu- 
tenant Willett  ?  " 

"  None,  none  in  the  least.  Still,  'tis  a  new  experi- 
ence with  me  to  play  with  a  gentleman  who  pushes 
his  credit  so  much  beyond  —  " 

"  Lieutenant  Willett !  " 

"  Am  I  not  keeping  well  within  my  privilege,  Mr. 
Waring  ?  You  have  lost  a  thousand  pounds  to  me, 
which  you  confess  you  cannot  pay.  You  would  force 
upon  me  some  heads  of  live  stock  which  I  do  not 
choose  to  accept.  In  both  of  these  respects  you  are 
irregular.  If  you  have  a  second  proposition,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  I  have  no  second  proposition." 

"  Then  I  am  to  understand  • —  " 

"What  you  please,  Lieutenant  Willett." 

The  lieutenant  took  down  his  foot  from  the  bench, 
and,  on  the  point  of  going,  said,  negligently  setting 
his  ruffles  aright : 

"  I  think  I  remember,  Mr.  Waring,  that  you  thought 
it  improper  that  Mr.  Vinton  Spencer  should  wear  a 
sword  after  his  irregular  way  of  trying  to  save  his 
money  —  " 

Wallace  struck  his  glove  so  smartly  into  the  lieu- 
tenant's face  that  the  imprint  of  the  leather  was  left 
on  his  cheek. 

Jacob  happened  to  be  looking  in  the  direction  and 
saw  the  blow,  which  no  one  else  had  noticed,  and  he 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  IQI 

moved  forward  a  little  to  see  the  result  of  it.  The 
lieutenant  made  no  movement  that  Jacob  could  detect. 
As  far  as  appearances  went,  he  received  the  indignity 
with  undisturbed  composure,  or,  rather,  as  if  he  were 
wholly  insensible  to  it.  But  Jacob  was  not  in  a  posi- 
tion to  see  the  lieutenant's  eyes.  There  was  action 
enough  in  them. 

"  Your  situation,  Mr.  Waring,"  the  lieutenant  said, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  makes  it  impossible  to 
decide  whether  I  can  regard  this  as  an  insult  or  must 
treat  it  as  an  assault.  If  you  have  not  redeemed 
your  word  before  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  I 
shall  look  upon  you  as  a  blackguard,  and  horsewhip 
you  at  the  first  occasion." 

He  turned  without  bowing,  and  walked  away,  leav- 
ing Wallace  in  that  raging,  chagrined,  and  baffled 
state  of  mind  which  lends  itself  willingly  to  any 
thought  of  desperate  revenge.  The  only  important 
purpose  of  life  with  him  now  was  to  get,  by  any 
means  that  offered,  a  thousand  pounds  to  fling  into 
Willett's  teeth,  and  therewith  purchase  the  preroga- 
tive of  boring  a  hole  through  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

JACOB  had  come  near  enough  to  hear  the  words 
"  horsewhip  you  at  the  first  occasion,"  and  to  note 
the  pallor  of  Waring's  face  as  the  effect  of  them. 
The  words  stung  him  like  a  lash  of  scorpions.  His 
heart  bounded  under  them.  He  would  have  liked  to 
take  the  throat  that  uttered  them  in  his  strong  grip 
and  throttle  it  ;  not  out  of  sympathy  with  Wallace, 
—  he  was  not  thinking  of  him,  — but  for  Luya's  sake. 
He  looked  about  him  fearful  that  she,  too,  might  have 
been  near  enough  to  hear.  It  seemed  to  him  a  mon- 
strous thing  that  here,  in  this  public  place,  where  all 
the  world  might  see  and  hear,  the  man  whom  Luya 
loved  should  be  so  infamously  threatened,  and  should 
stand  there  impotent  under  the  disgrace. 

He  watched  Wallace  go  away,  avoiding  the  crowd, 
and  read  in  his  face  the  writhing  of  the  humiliated 
spirit.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  speed  at  which 
Wallace  hurried  along  was  due  to  his  efforts  to  es- 
cape the  whip  already  cutting  about  his  shoulders, 
with  Luya  looking  on,  shame  staining  her  cheeks, 
horror  in  her  eyes.  Unconsciously,  he  started  to 
follow  in  the  direction  taken  by  Lieutenant  Willett,  a 
192 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  ,  193 

disordered  purpose  in  his  mind,  to  warn  that  officer 
how  perilous  it  would  be  to  him  to  put  infamy  on 
Waring.  But,  as  he  walked,  his  ideas  became  more 
coherent.  He  reasoned  by  degrees  to  the  under- 
standing that  the  thing  to  do  was  not  to  restrain 
Willett,  but  to  protect  Waring.  Wallace  had  been 
addressed  as  if  he  had  forfeited  the  right  to  be  treated 
as  a  gentleman.  What  had  he  done  ?  He  suddenly 
remembered  some  talk  he  had  heard  of  the  uncom- 
monly reckless  play  at  the  tavern  the  night  before, 
in  which  Wallace  had  lost  an  extravagant  sum. 
What  if  it  had  to  do  with  that  ?  Nothing  was  more 
probable.  He  would  find  out. 

He  made  inquiries  after  Wallace,  and  learned 
that  he  had  gone  toward  the  inn,  where  he  followed, 
arriving  but  a  few  minutes  later.  Wallace  had  gone 
to  his  room,  and  sent  down  word,  in  answer  to  Jacob's 
request  to  see  him  that  he  was  not  at  leisure.  Jacob 
went  up  the  stairs  on  his  own  account,  and  rapped 
at  the  door. 

"  Who  is  there  ? " 

"  Wilbruch." 

"  I  sent  word  that  I  could  not  see  you." 

"  So  they  told  me,  but  I  must  see  you." 

"  Come  in  the  evening,  then." 

"  I  wish  to  see  you  now." 

"  You  have  an  unmannerly  persistence,  Mr.  Wil- 
bruch," Wallace  said,  opening  the  door  and  admit- 


IQ4  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

ting  his  determined  visitor.  "I  hope  the  occasion 
of  your  coming  may  excuse  you." 

"  It  will,  if  your  honour  is  important  to  you." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  Wilbruch  ?  Have 
a  care  of  what  words  you  use  if  we  are  to  talk  on 
friendly  terms." 

"  Are  you  in  Lieutenant  Willett's  debt  ? " 

"What  concern  is  that  of  yours?  Gad,  Mr. 
Wilbruch,  if  you  have  come  to  a  quarrel  with  me, 
you  will  find  me  in  the  easiest  humour  to  oblige  you." 

"I  have  not  come  to  a  quarrel  with  you.  But 
Lieutenant  Willett  has  threatened  you  in  a  way  that 
one  gentleman  does  not  threaten  another  unless  there 
is  a  —  fault  somewhere." 

"  And  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  have  lost  money  to  the  lieutenant 
that  you  are  unable  to  pay." 

Wallace  folded  his  arms  and,  with  a  narrowing 
of  the  eyes  that  indicated  anything  but  a  pacific 
spirit,  demanded  between  his  teeth  : 

"  And  suppose  it  were  so,  Mr.  Wilbruch  ?  " 

"You  must  pay  him." 

Wallace  laughed.  It  seemed  to  him  fantastic  that 
this  great  simpleton  should  be  enjoining  him  in  this 
solemn  fashion  to  do  that  which  his  brain  was  riotous 
to  have  done. 

"Teach  me  the  art  of  turning  water  into  wine, 
Mr,  Wilbruch,  and  I'll  drink  ten  fiddlers  drunk  with 


IN  OLD   NEW    YORK.  195 

you  !  Devil  take  it,  man !  Do  you  think  I  need 
to  be  enlightened  by  you  or  any  man  in  what  con- 
cerns my  honour  ?  I'm  willing  to  allow  you  came  to 
comfort  and  not  to  vex  me,  and  I  beg  your  pardon 
if  I've  been  too  rude ;  but  I  have  reason  to  wish  the 
room  to  myself,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  take  it 
unkindly  that  I  offer  to  show  you  out."  Wallace 
went  to  open  the  door  as  he  spoke. 

Jacob  crossed  the  room  to  a  table  on  which  were 
writing-materials,  and  sat  down.  Wallace  regarded 
him  with  an  angry  astonishment. 

"  What  is  the  amount  of  your  debt  to  Lieutenant 
Willett  ? "  Jacob  asked,  taking  up  the  pen  and  dip- 
ping it  into  the  ink. 

Wallace  suddenly  conceived  something  of  Jacob's 
purpose.  His  anger  vanished  in  the  instant,  and  a 
sense  of  embarrassment  came  in  the  place  of  it. 
He  felt  guilty  of  having  blustered.  He  hated  the 
feeling  of  contrition  that  his  present  realisation  of 
the  situation  was  forcing  on  him.  He  came  forward, 
hesitatingly,  reluctant  to  confess  his  weakness. 

"  Why  the  deuce  do  you  ask  ? " 

"  I  want  the  figures." 

"  A  thousand  and  fifty  pounds,  —  fifty-nine,  to  be 
exact." 

Jacob  took  a  piece  of  paper  to  his  liking,  wrote 
and  signed  a  cheque  for  the  amount  named,  took 
a  stamp  from  his  pocket-book  and  applied  it  to  a 


196  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

corner  of  the  paper,  and  handed  the  now  legally 
current  slip  to  Wallace. 

"  I  can't  take  that,"  said  Wallace. 

"You  must  take  it, — and  use  it." 

Wallace  was  more  affected  than  he  was  willing 
to  have  seen,  and  lounged  toward  the  window  that 
overlooked  the  grounds,  speaking  with  as  much 
lightness  as  he  could  command. 

"  It  is  devilish  good  of  you,  Wilbruch,  to  make  the 
offer,  but  if  I  were  in  the  position  to  accept  of  it, 
I  should  not  be  in  the  straits  to  need  it.  The  cir- 
cumstances that  prevent  my  paying  Willett  make  it 
impossible  for  me  to  borrow  from  my  friends ;  for 
I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  quarrelled  with  my  father 
on  such  terms  as  put  me  from  the  service  of  his 
purse.  You  would  be  throwing  your  money  to  a 
beggar." 

"  That  does  not  concern  me,"  Jacob  said.  "  I 
give  you  the  money  without  conditions." 

"  It  is  true,"  Wallace  went  on,  "  I  have  some 
property  that,  under  favourable  sale,  should  fetch 
within  a  little  of  the  sum,  —  and  if  you  will  take  that 
in  security  of  the  loan  —  " 

"  I  ask  for  no  security.  I  am  not  making  a  bar- 
gain with  you." 

"No,"  cried  Wallace,  turning  about.  "You  are 
a  generous,  noble  fellow,  heaping  on  me  so  great  a 
benefit  that  I  am  a  rogue  to  try  to  hide  my  gratitude. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  197 

I  am  grateful,  Wilbruch,  profoundly  grateful,  for 
you  have  saved  me  from  something  worse  than  I 
dare  say.  There  is  not  one  man  in  ten  thousand 
would  have  done  as  much  for  a  dearer  friend,  —  and 
I  shall  hope  to  deserve  a  friendship  I  have  not  known 
to  appreciate." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  which  Jacob  took  slowly. 

"  Yes,  we  are  friends,  Waring ;  but  I  haven't  done 
this  for  you.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  doing  a  friend  a 
service.  I  was  only  thinking  of  saving  from  disgrace 
the  man  whom  Luya  loves." 

Jacob's  grave  face  had  something  in  it  that  a 
woman's  eyes  would  have  glistened  to  see  there  for 
her  sake,  and  when  he  had  left  the  room  Wallace 
half  wished  that  he  owed  his  deliverance  to  another 
man. 

And,  after  Jacob  had  gone,  Wallace  drew  from 
the  drawer  of  the  table  a  folded  paper,  that  he  had 
thrust  there  before  letting  Jacob  in,  and  spread  it 
open.  The  name  of  Stephen  Waring  was  many 
times  repeated  on  it,  with  such  changes  in  the  for- 
mation of  the  letters  as  indicated  an  attempt  to 
arrive  at  a  particular  accuracy.  Wallace  seemed 
to  pale  in  regarding  these  curious  repetitions,  and 
his  head  went  down  on  his  folded  arms,  and  there 
was  a  great  sigh  like  a  stifled  sob.  Presently  he 
struck  a  light  to  a  candle,  and  held  the  paper  in  the 
flame,  watching  it  blacken  and  shrivel  into  ash. 


198  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  Thank  God !  "  he  said. 

He  blew  out  the  candle,  and  returned  to  the  desk. 
He  indorsed  the  cheque  carefully,  and  wrote  a  note 
to  Lieutenant  Willett : 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  enclose  a  cheque  for  the  amount 
of  my  debt  to  you.  If  my  messenger  make  proper  haste,  it 
will  arrive  into  your  hands  before  the  mark  of  my  glove  can 
have  faded  from  your  cheek.  I  shall  not  quit  the  inn  until 
I  have  allowed  time  for  your  acknowledgments  to  reach  me." 

This  note,  with  the  cheque  enclosed,  was  des- 
patched to  Lieutenant  Willett  by  hand,  and  three 
hours  later  Mr.  Philip  Ashton  came  with  the  lieu- 
tenant's acknowledgments. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A  BRISK  canter  in  the  early  morning,  over  the 
riverside  road  that  led  to  Greenwich  village  and 
beyond,  was  as  pretty  a  bit  of  experience  as  any 
conscious  horseman  could  have  wished.  The  broad- 
bosomed  Hudson  sweeping  majestically  down  its 
island  reaches  in  the  embrace  of  shore-lines  hardly 
yet  molested  in  their  virgin  dignity,  the  near  and 
far  beauties  of  shadow-dappled  country  just  coming 
to  life  under  the  rose  and  purple  light,  the  smell  of 
earth  sweetened  by  the  dews  of  night,  the  matins 
of  birds  yet  drowsy  from  the  nest,  and  the  wide- 
spread stillness  over  the  human  world,  —  these,  and 
the  thousand  nameless  charms  that  live  and  die  with 
the  dawn,  might  have  disposed  the  souls  of  Christian 
gentlemen  to  peace  and  amity. 

But  the  half-dozen  gentlemen  in  parties  of  three 
who  rode  the  way  this  July  morning  had  as  little 
countenance  for  the  gaudery  of  nature  as  had  the 
cattle  just  rousing  up  to  browse  in  the  wayside  pas- 
tures. Their  concern  with  the  morning  was  to  have 
done  with  the  business  in  hand  before  the  sun  rose 
199 


2OO  Iff  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

high  enough  to  trouble  the  eye  glancing  along  the 
barrel  of  a  pistol. 

It  had  given  rise  to  some  curious  comment  in  the 
course  of  the  ride  that  two  gentlemen  so  well  skilled 
in  the  use  of  the  sword,  undeniably  the  most  genteel 
weapon  with  which  to  decide  a  gentlemanly  differ- 
ence, should  elect  to  hold  their  argument  with 
pointblank  pistols. 

"  Deuce  take  it ! "  said  Ashton,  complainingly,  to 
Willett,  "the  most  ruffianly,  coarse-fibred  rascal  of 
a  fellow  may  hold  a  pistol  as  true  to  the  mark  as  the 
nicest  gallant,  and  send  a  bullet  as  far  into  his  ad- 
versary ;  but  to  play  a  sword  with  dexterity,  and  sur- 
prise a  guard  in  the  very  instant  that  will  let  your 
point  penetrate  the  spot  picked  out  for  the  coup! 
May  the  devil's  dam  fly  away  with  me,"  he  inter- 
rupted himself  to  exclaim,  "if  I  can  make  out 
Waring's  reason  for  the  choice ! " 

"I  suppose  it  makes  little  difference,  Ashton, 
whether  'tis  a  sword  point  or  a  pistol  bullet  that 
gives  a  man  his  finish." 

"  The  widest  possible  difference,  Willett,  —  to  the 
spectators.  To  see  a  gentleman  fall,  knocked  over 
by  an  ounce  of  lead  from  ten  or  twenty  paces,  is  no 
great  matter,  and  reflects  but  little  credit  on  the 
other's  skill ;  and  'tis  over  while  you  are  thinking 
whether  it  is  yet  to  begin.  But  my  chief  proof  to 
the  vulgarity  of  the  pistol  and  its  unfitness  to  an 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  2OI 

affair  between  gentlemen  is  in  the  awkward,  slovenly 
way  in  which  a  man  tumbles  to  the  ground  under  a 
vital  shot ;  sprawling  face  downwards  in  the  most 
graceless  posture  conceivable,  so  that  it  were  an 
even  guess  whether  he  were  dead  or  drunk.  If 
there  is  one  time  more  than  another  when  a  gentle- 
man owes  it  to  himself  and  to  the  world  to  present 
an  irreproachable  appearance,  it  is  when  he  falls  in 
support  of  his  honour." 

"  Gad,  then  I  hope,  Ashton,  if  I  fall  this  morning, 
I'll  have  the  presence  of  mind  to  pose  to  your  liking." 

"Then  I  shall  implore  you  to  keep  to  your  feet, 
for  you  cannot  fall  in  any  way  to  my  liking." 

While  this  conversation  was  holding,  Wallace, 
Bradford,  and  the  surgeon  were  riding  in  silence  a 
mile  in  advance,  and  presently  reached  the  wooded 
solitude  designated  for  the  meeting. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,  is  everything  said  ? "  Bradford 
asked,  after  they  had  dismounted,  putting  a  hand  on 
Wallace's  shoulder. 

"  I  think  of  nothing  further." 

"  But  you  have  said  nothing  of  —  Miss  Vanbergen." 

"  Because  there  is  a  packet  in  my  pocket  for  her  if 
the  worst  happen." 

"  How  do  you  feel  ? ". 

"  Never  in  better  spirit." 

"  And  your  nerves  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you." 


2O2  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

Wallace  took  one  of  the  empty  pistols  from  the 
case,  cocked  it,  balanced  a  sixpence  on  the  end  of 
the  barrel,  held  the  pistol  horizontally  at  full  arm's 
length,  and,  after  a  moment,  pulled  the  trigger.  The 
sixpence  kept  its  place. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  be  able  to  wing  your  man," 
the  surgeon  said,  with  a  broad  smile. 

"  If  your  aim  is  as  straight  as  your  arm  is  steady," 
Bradford  concurred. 

"  When  I  was  in  France  I  kept  my  credit  with  the 
peppery  Parisians  by  spoiling  louis  thrown  into  the 
air.  But  I'm  out  of  practice  since." 

.  "  Then  I  understand  why  you  chose  pistols  instead 
of  swords,"  Bradford  said,  in  a  low  tone,  not  to  be 
overheard  by  the  surgeon,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  a 
tinge  of  reproach  got  into  his  tone. 

Wallace  took  Bradford's  arm  and  led  him  a  little 
aside. 

"  Your  conclusion  is  wrong,  Allen,  but  I'll  set  you 
right.  You  will  call  me  a  sentimental  fool,  and.  try 
to  dissuade  me.  I  did  not  choose  pistols  to  have  an 
advantage  over  Willett ;  I  did  it  to  give  him  an  equal 
chance  with  myself." 

"  He  is  as  good  a  swordsman  as  you  are." 

"Exactly,  and  would  have  given  me  so  much 
trouble  to  master  him  that  my  good  resolutions 
would  have  gone  to  pot  in  my  excitement,  and  I 
should  have  made  my  best  to  kill  him,  I'm  much 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  203 

afraid,  whereas  my  purpose  is  to  do  him  no  harm  in 
the  least." 

"What  the  deuce  brings  you  here  with  such  a 
purpose  as  that  ?  " 

"  Love,  Allen,  love  !  " 

"  Has  love  made  you  lunatic  enough  to  set  your- 
self up  as  a  mere  target  to  a  man  who  will  hardly 
appreciate  your  fine  sentiments  enough  to  aim  above 
your  head  ? " 

"  I  had  a  lesson  yesterday,  Allen,  that  I'll  repeat 
to  you  one  day,  if  I  live  to  break  a  bottle  of  wine  at  a 
private  confessional ;  but  the  moral  of  it  was  this : 
'  If  there  must  be  blood  on  the  hand  you  hold  out  to 
the  woman  you  love,  let  it  be  blood  shed  entirely  to 
your  honour.'  " 

"  What  confounded  riddle  is  this,  Wallace  ? " 

"  No  riddle ;  but  I  see  myself  so  little  in  the  right 
that  I  have  not  malice  enough  against  Willett  to  wish 
to  do  him  an  injury.  If  I  had  been  left  to  work  out 
my  own  salvation  yesterday,  I  should  have  been  in 
the  mood  this  morning  to  think  his  killing  a  proper 
act  of  vengeance,  but  I  should  have  been  as  rank  a 
scoundrel  as  any  locked  in  the  dark  holes  of  the  City 
Hall.  If  a  blow  in  an  officer's  face  were  an  offence 
to  be  wiped  away  with  an  apology,  I  should  have 
saved  the  lieutenant  the  trouble  of  rising  so  early. 
But  here  are  our  men." 

Bradford    was    inquisitively    mystified,    but    this 


204  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

arrival  of  the  others  left  him  no  opportunity  to  ask 
for  clearer  information.  The  preparations  for  action 
were  immediately  begun. 

"  Do  you  see  what  appears  to  be  a  stain  in  the  puff 
of  Willett's  shirt,  at  the  side  there  ? "  Wallace  asked 
of  Bradford,  as  the  pistols  were  loading. 

"Yes." 

"  I'll  put  a  bullet  hole  through  that." 

"  How  are  you  as  a  shot  ? "  Ashton  had  asked  of 
Willett. 

"I  can  hit  a  man,"  the  lieutenant  replied,  grimly. 

And  both  gentlemen  were  as  good  as  their  words ; 
for,  whereas  Mr.  Waring  sent  his  bullet  neatly 
through  the  puff  of  the  lieutenant's  shirt,  the  lieu- 
tenant managed  so  well  with  his  hitting  that  Mr. 
Waring  rode  home  with  a  perforation  of  the  left 
shoulder  that  retired  him  from  the  public  for  some- 
thing more  than  a  fortnight. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THOUGH  Miss  Vanbergen  withdrew  the  demand 
for  a  carriage  of  the  French  pattern,  and  continued 
to  be  content  with  a  hired  chair  when  she  felt  the 
need  of  other  conveyance  than  her  own  sprightly 
legs,  she  very  seriously  applied  herself  to  the  agree- 
able task  of  setting  the  Vanbergen  establishment 
before  society  with  its  best  foot  forward.  The 
promptitude  with  which  the  dismemberment  of  the 
"  firm "  was  set  in  motion  was  but  the  prelude  to 
other  decisive  measures  which  made  for  the  honour 
of  the  family  and  the  ease  of  its  women,  an  important 
item  being  the  purchase  of  a  comely  young  negress 
to  serve  in  the  new  office  of  maid-in-waiting  to  Luya 
and  incidentally  to  the  household  in  general.  The 
restoration  of  the  drawing-room  to  its  original  dig- 
nity, with  increased  beauty  of  curtains  at  the  window, 
began  the  day  following  the  rupture,  visibly  to  the 
discontent  of  Mr.  Vanbergen,  who  was  so  well  satis- 
fied with  knowing  himself  to  be  rich  that  he  cared 
not  a  stiver  for  the  ignorance  of  the  world  on  that 
point.  As  for  the  matter  of  taking  his  proper  place 
in  society  by  getting  out  of  trade  simplicity  into  mer- 
205 


2O6  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

chant  pride,  his  instincts  were"  all  for  the  tranquil 
seclusion  of  the  domestic  sphere ;  and  he  had  so  little 
the  spirit  of  pomposity  which  was  supposed  to  be  the 
characteristic  of  the  opulent  of  his  race,  that  he 
rather  enjoyed  the  condescending  affability  of  the 
English  merchants  in  their  meetings  at  the  Exchange. 
Their  assumption  of  superiority  made  him  all  the 
more  pleased  to  get  the  better  of  them  in  their  rival 
transactions,  which  he  not  infrequently  did,  having 
so  much  more  of  the  heredity  and  tradition  of  trade 
in  his  mental  make-up.  He  could  see  no  profit  or 
advantage  to  be  gained  from  a  surrender  at  his  time 
of  life  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  circumstance,  but 
it  was  not  for  him  to  contend  when  Luya  proposed. 
Mrs.  Vanbergen,  too,  had  fallen  without  resistance 
into  the  swirl  of  the  revolutionary  movement ;  and, 
though  she  refused  to  withhold  her  hand  from  the 
housewife  cares  of  the  kitchen  region,  declaring  she 
would  die  of  an  indigestion  if  the  cooking  were  left 
to  Marta,  she  yielded  so  freely  in  other  directions 
that  she  became,  not  only  a  staunch  ally,  but,  in 
certain  emergencies,  a  willing  pioneer. 

Luya  was  resolved  on  giving  a  party  as  a  challenge 
to  Miss  Boylston  and  whatever  other  ladies  who 
might  be  of  a  mind  to  think  twice  before  accepting 
her  invitation.  Her  preparatory  step  to  this  rather 
serious  adventure  was  to  require  of  her  father  to  bid 
his  fellow  merchants  to  a  sumptuous  dinner,  which 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  2O/ 

should  be  served  at  one  of  the  taverns.  Fortune 
came  to  her  aid  in  this  particular.  Four  privateers, 
one  of  which  was  owned  by  Mr.  Vanbergen,  sailed 
into  the  bay,  having  in  custody  six  French  prizes, 
and  straightway  the  owners  fell  to  those  differences 
over  the  distribution  which  were  inevitable  when  cap- 
tures were  made  by  concerted  action.  The  disputes 
in  such  cases  were  settled  by  mutually  chosen  arbi- 
ters, and  justice  was  dealt  out  so  even-handedly  that 
each  party  to  the  difference  imagined  the  decision  to 
be  just  a  flattering  shade  in  his  favour.  But  in  this 
instance  Mr.  Vanbergen  had  very  much  the  best  of 
the  settlement,  for  it  turned  out  that  one  of  the  rich- 
est of  the  prizes  was  really  in  the  very  act  of  striking 
her  colours  to  his  guns  when,  attracted  by  the  firing, 
the  ship  that  made  the  counter-claim  came  into  range 
and  sent  an  entirely  superfluous  shot  over  the  French- 
man's bows.  Though  this  "  prize  "  addition  to  the 
accounts  prolonged  his  settlement  with  Mr.  Waring, 
Mr.  Vanbergen  did  not  the  less  regard  the  dinner  to 
the  merchants  as  a  most  successful  celebration  of  his 
return  to  undivided  sovereignty.  He  felt  that  this 
dinner  was  a  thing  of  which  to  be  proud  through  a 
long  life,  and  was  quite  assured  that  by  means  of  it 
he  had  proved  himself  the  compeer  of  any  man  whose 
legs  were  ever  sprawled  under  mahogany.  It  was 
pleasant  to  him  to  remember,  too,  that  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor,  who,  as  one  of  the  arbitrators  of  the  dis- 


208  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

pute,  had  honoured  the  feast  by  his  presence,  had 
derived  so  much  understanding  from  the  punch  that 
twice  he  leaned  over  from  his  plate  to  clap  the  host 
over  the  shoulder,  and  declare  him  to  be  "  one  of  the 
corner-stones  of  the  community,  and  a  most  amiable 
and  proper  person  by  way  of  addition." 

Luya,  occupying  her  fingers  with  a  trifle  of  needle- 
work, was  reviewing  her  father's  report  of  his  success 
and  finding  in  it  the  preface  to  her  own,  when  Hen- 
drik  came  panting  in  from  school,  his  eyes  eloquent 
of  his  self-importance. 

"I  know  why  Mr.  Wallace  Waring  hasn't  been 
here  for  the  last  five  days  ! " 

"And  I  know,  too,  Hendrik,"  she  replied,  with  a 
nod  of  the  head  and  a  mischievous  smile  to  abase  his 
triumph.  "  Mr.  Waring  is  ill." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  don't  know  what  he  is  ill  of !" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do.  He  is  troubled  with  a  fever,  — 
but  it  is  not  so  mighty  a  matter,  sir,  but  that  he  can 
send  me  a  daily  bulletin  in  his  own  hand.  You 
are  not  the  only  wise  person  in  the  town,  Master 
Hendrik." 

Hendrik  thrust  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his 
nankeen  shorts,  and  squared  himself  to  an  attitude  of 
manly  consequence. 

"I  know  better  than  that,  though!  He's  been 
shot,  —  that's  what  happened  to  him  !  " 

"  Shot !  "  gasped  Luya,  falling  back  in  her  chair ; 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  209 

but,  quickly  rallying  her  forces,  she  lurched  forward, 
grasping  at  Hendrik,  and,  in  a  way  that  frightened 
him,  demanded : 

"  Who  shot  him  ?  " 

"  I  didn't ! "  he  was  startled  into  protesting,  and, 
retreating  some  steps,  added  in  the  breath,  "His 
father,  I  suppose." 

Little  was  gained  by  the  feverish  questioning  of 
Hendrik,  for  the  precise  reason  that  Hendrik  had 
little  to  impart.  He  had  heard  a  man  talking  to  the 
teacher,  and  had  caught  something  about  a  quarrel 
and  a  shooting,  but  nothing  definite.  The  man  had 
seemed  to  be  in  ignorance  of  any  particulars,  for  he 
had  said  "  I  don't  know  "  to  many  of  the  teacher's 
questions.  Nor  was  Hendrik's  chance  informant  the 
only  honest  citizen  who  was  sorely  troubled  with  a 
burning  to  know  what  manner  of  accident  it  was  that 
had  brought  Wallace  to  bed,  and  for  what  reason  he 
was  lodged  at  the  inn  rather  than  housed  at  home. 

The  mind  of  man  was  created  to  investigate  phe- 
nomena, and  pride  of  office  impels  him  to  substitute 
possibilities  for  probabilities,  and  probabilities  for 
evidence,  when  demonstrative  proof  is  wanting.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  no  one,  save  Jacob  in  a 
partial  way,  had  been  taken  into  the  confidence  of 
either  of  the  Warings  with  regard  to  the  scene  in  the 
library ;  and  despite  the  discretion  of  all  the  parties 
to  the  duel  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  it  confined  to 


2IO  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

the  limits  of  a  very  gradually  widening  circle,  certain 
busy  gossips  of  the  coffee-house  had  reasoned  out  a 
theory  that  did  much  credit  to  their  intelligence. 
The  error  in  the  general  conclusion  was  a  belief  that 
Lieutenant  Willett  had  been  invited  out  by  Mr.  Wal- 
lace Waring  to  explain  his  pretensions  to  so  much  of 
Miss  Boylston's  society,  and  had  established  his 
right  to  precedence  by  the  most  convincing  method. 
The  gossips  rested  content  with  this  logical  deduc- 
tion, and  began  to  speculate  upon  the  magnificence 
of  the  wedding  that  should  have  military  splendour 
to  supplement  the  display  which  Banker  Boylston 
would  feel  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  make  in  honour 
of  his  only  daughter. 

Luya,  who  had  fewer  details  than  the  gossips  out 
of  which  to  construct  a  theory,  went  to  her  room 
after  her  futile  questioning  of  Hendrik,  and,  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  pillow,  took  counsel  of  her  intui- 
tions and  wept  herself  into  a  certainty  that  a  young 
gentleman  of  Wallace  Waring's  prepossessing  quali- 
ties and  gallant  disposition  could  have  but  one  object 
in  having  deceived  her  as  to  the  nature  of  his  illness. 
If  he  had  been  wounded  without  disloyalty  to  her  he 
would  have  been  at  no  pains  to  conceal  from  her  the 
truth  of  his  physical  state.  The  one  inference  was 
that  his  wound  had  come  of  a  quarrel  on  some  lady's 
account.  The  lady  she  was  at  no  loss  to  pick  from 
among  her  acquaintances.  Though  Miss  Boylston 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  211 

was  very  liberal  with  her  smiles,  and  was  not  popu- 
larly known  to  have  singled  out  for  especial  favours 
any  particular  one  of  the  six  or  eight  young  gentlemen 
who  were  familiar  visitors  at  her  father's  house,  Luya 
could  imagine  no  one  so  likely  to  have  made  a  claim 
to  her  preference  as  Lieutenant  Willett.  So,  guided 
only  by  her  intuitions,  Luya  reached  most  expedi- 
tiously  the  same  sound  conclusion  to  which  the 
gossips  had  come  by  the  systematic  and  laboured 
reasoning  of  many  days. 

Having  the  main  verity  clearly  set  up,  it  was  an 
easy  matter  to  range  the  corollary  beside  it,  and  this 
Luya  did  without  hesitancy,  rising  from  her  moral 
and  physical  prostration  with  her  heart  very  flintily 
set  against  a  wretch  who  had  been  base  enough  to 
trifle  with  her. 

By  the  time  she  had  bathed  her  face  and  rear- 
ranged her  disordered  hair,  she  was  sufficiently 
restored  to  judicial  poise  to  remember  that  it  is  as 
well  to  have  some  slight  corroborative  evidence,  how- 
ever circumstantial,  before  passing  sentence  on  one 
whose  guilt  may  have  some  extenuating  aspects. 
Jacob  might  be  in  a  position  to  throw  an  illuminat- 
ing spark  on  the  question.  No  harm  could  come  of 
deferring  final  judgment  until  Jacob  had  been  cross- 
examined.  In  this  equitable  spirit  of  justice,  Luya 
took  a  chair  to  the  window  and  sat  down  to  watch 
for  Jacob's  coming. 


212  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

When  she  saw  him  coming  along  the  Parade  she 
went  down  to  the  door  to  meet  him. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  ? "  she  demanded,  as  he 
came  up  the  steps. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Luya  ?  " 

"About  Mr.  Waring." 

"You  knew  he  was  ill." 

"  But  I  did  not  know  how  it  happened.  Did 
you  ?  " 

Jacob  was  deficient  in  the  polite  art  of  ready  eva- 
sion. He  fumbled  about  in  his  mind  as  a  man 
gropes  in  the  dark,  whenever  he  wanted  the  re- 
spectable substitute  for  a  direct  answer.  His 
hesitancy  was  always  the  most  unmistakable  of 
responses. 

"  You  knew  all  about  it,  then  !  "  Luya  exclaimed, 
sharply. 

"  No,  you  are  not  to  think  that.  I've  not  talked 
with  any  one  about  it.  I've  not  seen  Mr.  Waring 
since.  But  I  heard  them  say  at  the  tavern  —  that  is, 
I  believe  there  was  a  misunderstanding  —  some  dis- 
agreement, a  difference  of  opinion  —  " 

He  was  trying  to  get  in  order  the  harmless  fiction 
he  had  devised  the  first  day  to  tell  to  Luya  in  the 
event  of  her  questioning  him.  But  the  days  of  ap- 
parent security  had  tricked  him  into  forgetting  his 
fable,  and  his  beating  about  was  fatal  to  his  good 
intention. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  21$ 

"  Don't  try  to  tell  a  lie,  Jacob.  You  can't.  Was 
it  Lieutenant  Willett  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  Lieutenant  Willett,"  he  replied,  re- 
luctantly. , 

The  eager  light  of  the  half  hope  went  out  of  her 
eyes,  giving  place  to  a  gleam  that  went  very  well 
with  the  clenching  of  the  white  slender  fingers. 
Jacob,  seeing  the  change,  wondered  how  it  would 
fare  with  Lieutenant  Willett  if  only  women  could 
work  their  will  on  men. 

"  Is  Mr.  Waring  in  any  danger  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No,  he  is  past  that  a  long  way.  He  is  faring 
famously,"  Jacob  answered,  heartily,  glad  of  the 
chance  to  say  something  which  taxed  no  scruple. 

"Thank  you,  Jacob.  I  doubt  but  you  will  be 
willing  to  leave  a  note  at  the  inn  on  your  way  this 
evening  ? " 

"  Of  course,  Luya."  And,  as  she  was  turning  to 
enter  the  house,  he  added,  by  way  of  cheer,  "  One 
good  thing  come  of  it  is  the  making  up  of  the  quarrel 
between  Wallace  and  his  father." 

There  was  not  much  sweetness  in  Luya's  smile. 
She  knew  of  but  one  quarrel,  that  in  which  she  had 
taken  some  part,  the  afternoon  when  the  elder  gen- 
tleman had  so  stung  her  pride,  but  less  than  the 
memory  of  her  avowal  to  the  son  was  stinging  it  now. 
The  making  up  of  that  quarrel  could  have  but  one 
significance. 


214  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  good  thing,  Jacob,  —  good  for  all  of 
us."  She  left  him,  abruptly  going  to  the  room  in 
haste,  as  if  a  moment's  delay  in  the  doing  of  a  certain 
mighty  thing  were  a  kind  o£  treason  to  herself.  She 
wrote  the  note  which  Jacob  should  deliver  for  her, 
giving  much  care  to  the  wording  of  it,  though  it  was 
brief  enough. 

"I  am  fully  acquainted  with  the  circumstances  and  the 
occasion  of  your  '  fever.'  I  congratulate  you  that  at  so  little 
danger  you  were  able  to  relieve  yourself  of  embarrassments 
that  must  have  marred  your  future.  But  that  you  have  such 
unusual  ideas  of  what  is  permitted  to  a  gentleman  I  should  not 
have  felt  at  the  necessity  to  tell  you  what  another  would  under- 
stand, namely,  that  acquaintance  between  us  is  at  an  end." 

Were  it  not  for  the  mischievous  zephyrs  of  folly 
blowing  the  gossamers  of  love  into  a  tangle,  what 
pretty  tragedies  would  be  lost  from  the  comedy  of 
life !  Wallace  was  put  into  such  a  passion  by  this 
note  as  threatened  his  healing  wound.  He  imagined 
that  he  owed  its  writing  to  Jacob,  and  it  was  upon 
Jacob's  head  he  broke  the  vials  of  his  wrath.  He 
could  conceive  of  nothing  but  that  Jacob  had  recounted 
the  history  of  the  gambling  debt  and  the  rescue,  for- 
getting utterly  that  it  was  to  keep  him  from  being 
discredited  in  Luya's  eyes  that  Jacob  had  insisted 
on  befriending  him.  He  began  to  see  a  good  deal  of 
subtlety  and  artifice  in  the  apparently  straightforward 
Jacob.  His  generous  and  high  mindedness  was  not 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK,  21$ 

above  setting  traps  in  which  to  catch  the  man  who 
had  come  between  him  and  the  object  of  his  love. 
It  was  ridiculous  to  suppose  a  man  giving  a  thousand 
pounds  to  protect  a  rival's  credit  in  his  sweetheart's 
eyes.  These  were  not  the  days  of  Greek  disinter- 
estedness. When  men  do  acts  of  extraordinary 
virtue,  it  is  just  as  well  to  look  for  the  motive.  Al- 
truism is  a  very  charming  philosophy,  no  doubt,  but 
when  it  gets  out  of  books  and  into  practice  it  is  time 
for  the  wise  to  be  on  their  guard.  Mr.  Jacob  Wil- 
bruch's  aim  was  to  play  the  hero  in  Luya's  eyes  at 
the  expense  of  a  rather  too  careless  and  confiding 
rival.  And  he  had  succeeded  in  making  Luya  believe 
that  he,  Wallace,  was  a  very  contemptible  fellow  in 
the  balance  of  merits !  Very  well,  very  well,  let  it 
be  so  ;  but  let  Mr.  Jacob  Wilbruch  look  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  reconciliation  between  Wallace  and  his  father, 
of  which  Jacob  had  spoken  so  cheerily,  was  not  exactly 
a  restoration  of  the  old  relations.  Under  the  shock 
of  learning  what  had  befallen  his  son,  Mr.  Waring 
had  an  attack  of  remorse  and  contrition  by  which  he 
was  brought  to  a  willingness  to  comply  with  any 
demand  Wallace  might  put  upon  him.  But  in  that 
favourable  moment  Wallace  was  not  inclined  to  so- 
licit favours,  feeling  an  unreasonable  resentment 
against  his  father  as  the  cause  of  the  moral  and 
physical  danger  he  had  run.  He  received  his 
father's  overtures  with  dignity  and  thankfulness, 
but  declared  that  it  was  his  hope  henceforth  to 
follow  a  course  of  greater  personal  honour  than  one 
of  idle  dependence  upon  his  father's  bounty. 

"  I  intend,  sir,"  he  said,  looking  capable  enough, 
notwithstanding  his  being  flat  on  his  back,  under  the 
surgeon's  orders,  "when  I  have  got  out  of  this,  to 
essay  something  for  myself.  'Tis  an  advantage,  in  a 
way,  to  be  a  rich  man's  son ;  but  I  begin  to  see  it  is 
a  peril,  too,  since  it  may  dwarf  the  best  part  of 
manhood." 

216 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  21? 

"  My  .dear  Wallace,  it  is  with  this  as  'tis  with  what- 
ever else  engages  to  serve  the  individual,  a  question 
of  personal  character." 

"There,  sir,  I  take  it,  the  mistake  lies,  it  being 
assumed  that  character  is  a  substantial  something  to 
determine  us  to  one  direction  or  another,  and  which 
we  have  much  in  the  same  way  that  we  have  a 
conscience,  through  no  contriving  of  our  own.  I 
think,  sir,  character  is  a  thing  of  our  own  putting 
together,  and  each  incident  of  our  lives  is  a  part  of 
the  structure.  It  is  what  we  do  that  makes  charac- 
ter, —  it  is  not  character  that  decides  what  we  shall 
do." 

"  I  hope,  Wallace,  that  you  have  not  come  to  bed 
to  invent  a  philosophy.  I  much  fear  there  is  none 
left  to  invent.  Your  best  wisdom  is  to  get  well  as 
speedily  as  you  may.  I  am  much  of  the  opinion  that 
you  will  still  find  ready  money  a  convenience." 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  shall,  but  to  a  different  use  than 
before.  I  shall,  doubtless,  wish  to  borrow  from  you 
to  my  establishment,  but  my  hope  is  to  prove  the 
investment  a  good  one." 

"  And  what  is  your  plan  ? " 

"  I've  not  yet  come  to  that ;  though,  sir,  I  do  not 
think  to  take  to  privateering."  Wallace  looked  at 
his  father  with  a  droll  smile. 

"  I  dare  say,"  Mr.  Waring  replied,  declining  the 
personal  challenge,  "that  privateering  is  no  worse 


2l8  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

than  many  another  means  to  fortune.  The  ships  of 
an  enemy  are  legitimate  prey." 

"  But  I've  heard  it  whispered  that  the  French  ves- 
sels are  not  the  only  objects  on  which  some  of  our 
New  York  privateers  have  turned  their  guns." 

"  If  we  give  accommodation  to  every  whisper  that 
knocks  at  our  ears,  Wallace,  we  shall  have  much 
ado  to  respect  our  neighbours,  since  we  will  not 
have  room  to  entertain  a  good  opinion  of  the  best 
of  mankind.  There  is  but  one  rule  for  a  sensible 
man,  '  Hear  only  that  which  it  is  to  your  advantage 
to  hear.' "  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  added, 
"  Except  that  one  must  take  heed  of  the  slander  that 
points  his  way.  Umph  !  I  should  like  to  send  Lieu- 
tenant Willett  a  cheque  for  the  amount  —  " 

"  Lieutenant  Willett  is  paid,"  Wallace  said,  a  little 
sharply. 

Mr.  Waring  looked  surprised,  started  to  ask  a 
question,  but  changed  the  subject,  and  did  not 
again  refer  to  the  matter  in  their  subsequent  con- 
versations. 

But  the  morning  after  he  received  Luya's  note, 
Wallace  barely  waited  to  welcome  the  visit  of  his 
father  before  saying : 

"Sir,  I  need  at  once  a  thousand  and  fifty -nine 
pounds,  which  is  the  half  of  the  sum  I  had  thought 
to  borrow  of  you  for  my  enterprise.  Can  you  oblige 
me  with  a  cheque  for  the  amount  this  morning  ? " 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.,  2IQ 

"  You  seem  in  excitement,  Wallace  !  That  is  bad 
for  your  wound.  You  have  some  fever."  Mr.  War- 
ing showed  no  little  anxiety.  "  You  must  not  allow 
your  mind  to  run  on  enterprises  that  set  your  blood 
in  motion.  Where  is  your  bolus  ? " 

"The  cheque  I  ask  for  will  go  further  than  a 
medicine  to  correct  the  disorder.  Will  you  give  it 
me  ?  'Tis  in  the  nature  of  a  loan." 

"  That  will  be  an  after  consideration.  To  whom 
shall  I  make  it  payable  ? " 

"  To  myself." 

Mr.  Waring  raised  his  eyebrows.  He  did  not 
entirely  like  being  shouldered  out  of  his  son's  con- 
fidence. He  thought  it  was  pride  that  made  the 
objection.  He  had  not  yet  come  to  realise  that 
down  among  the  crannies  of  his  heart  was  a  pale 
flower  of  hungering  affection  which  had  been  kept 
alive  these  twenty  odd  years  by  the  careless  frank- 
ness of  the  fellow  lying  there  on  the  bed.  Mr. 
Waring  wrote  the  cheque  without  further  comment ; 
and,  later  in  the  morning,  Wallace  sent  it,  indorsed, 
to  Jacob,  with  the  line  of  thanks  : 

"  To  the  extent  that  you  have  served  me  I  return  my 
thanks.  For  the  rest,  I  wait  the  time  when  I  may  have  a 
conversation  with  you." 

Jacob  saw  nothing  ambiguous  in  the  words.  The 
note,  to  his  mind,  was  a  simple  and  sufficient  acknowl- 


22O  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

edgment  of  the  service  he  had  rendered.  He  only 
regretted  that  the  repayment  had  been  made  so  soon. 
This  prompt  proof  of  Wallace's  independence  cf  him 
made  it  seem  that  he  had  really  done  nothing  what- 
ever to  befriend  Luya.  He  would  have  been  happier 
had  the  money  never  come  back. 

Luya  waited  hopefully  through  that  day  and  the 
next  for  some  word  from  Wallace.  She  made  no 
doubt  he  would  write,  and  she  had  promised  herself 
the  exquisite  torture  of  returning  the  packet  with 
the  seal  unbroken.  But  as  the  hours  went  by,  and 
nothing  came  to  be  returned,  the  silence  weighed  on 
her  like  a  confession.  At  first  she  would  have 
scorned  any  attempt  at  self-exculpation  he  might 
have  had  the  impudence  to  make ;  but  by  degrees, 
as  the  likelihood  of  his  making  a  plea  decreased  with 
the  slowly  passing  hours,  she  came  to  a  great  long- 
ing for  the  chance  to  forgive  the  most  heinous 
offence  of  which  he  could  have  been  guilty  against 
her.  If  he  would  but  write  to  say,  "  Yes,  I  am  a 
rascal.  I  have  trifled  with  you.  I  deserve  the 
worst  you  can  think  of  me,"  she  believed  she  would 
have  to  end  a  volume  of  reproaches  and  upbraidings 
with  the  declaration,  "  But  I  love  you  and  I  forgive 
you  everything." 

But  Wallace,  miserably  and  savagely  convinced 
that  Luya  and  the  town  at  large  held  an  opinion 
of  him  which  no  letters  from  an  invalid  chamber 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  221 

could  dispel,  resolved  to  abide  his  getting  out  to  a 
personal  justification  of  himself.  He  had  faith  in  the 
power  of  his  eloquence  in  a  tete-a-tete  with  Luya  to 
overcome  her  aversion  ;  and  he  was  willing  to  see  how 
far  his  sword  would  be  needed  to  correct  any  general 
misconceptions.  So  he  kept  his  peace  and  fretted 
his  wound  until  the  surgeon  began  to  fear  that  all 
his  battle  was  to  do  over  again  under  exaggerated 
conditions. 

In  the  evening  of  the  second  day  of  unrequited 
longing,  when  she  sat  in  the  midst  of  the  family, 
unconsciously  shedding  around  upon  it  the  gloom 
of  her  own  sombre  discontent,  Jacob  came  in  un- 
expectedly to  announce  his  intention  of  going  to 
Albany. 

"  Ant  vat  make  you  in  Alpany,  Jacob  ?  " 

"It  is  not  so  much  that  I  have  anything  to  do 
in  Albany  as  that  I  have  nothing  to  do  here  just 
now,"  Jacob  answered. 

But  he  went  on  to  explain  that  news  had  just 
come  to  the  effect  that,  encouraged  by  their  success 
in  reducing  Louisburg,  General  Shirley  and  Admiral 
Warren  had  concerted  a  project  for  the  conquest 
of  the  whole  of  Canada,  and  that  a  sort  of  congress 
was  to  be  held  at  Albany  to  ascertain  what  support 
the  colonies  would  give  the  measure. 

"  If  the  colonies  will  agree  to  the  levy  -of  troops 
enough,  it  is  certain  that  England  will  send  a  navy 


222  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

to  support  them,  for  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  has 
undertaken  to  say  as  much." 

"  I  ton't  t'ink  t'at  vill  happen,  Jacob.  You  see,  it 
is  my  opinion  t'at  Englant  von't  sent  over  some 
ships  to  help  t'e  colonies  in  anyt'ings ;  pecause, 
Jacob,  t'ere  is  too  much  intepentence  of  t'e  colonists 
alreaty,  ant  if  t'ey  got  some  more  prite  in  t'emselfs, 
—  veil,  the  king  voult  not  haf  much  to  say  after  t'at, 
Jacob.  T'ere  is  no  use  your  going  to  Alpany, 
Jacob." 

"But  Jacob  isn't  going  there  to  conduct  a  war, 
papa." 

"  No,  I'm  going  because  I  have  never  been  there, 
and  because  it  is  a  good  time  to  go,  and  then,  too, 
some  of  our  friends  are  going." 

"  Ja,  t'at  is  very  goot  reasons,  Jacob.  Alpany  is 
a  pig,  fine  city,  much  pigger  as  New  York,  ant  veil 
vort  seeing.  I  haf  peen  t'ere  once.  I  haf  a  sister 
t'ere.  Her  huspant  peliefs  t'at  Alpany  is  petter 
as  New  York ;  put  ton't  let  t'em  make  you  t'ink 
so,  too,  Jacob.  Veil,  if  you  go  to  Alpany,  you  must 
go  to  see  Josina,  —  t'at's  my  sister.  Her  huspant  is 
pretty  goot  pusiness  mans,  —  in  t'e  flour  trate." 

"When  are  you  going,  Jacob?"  Luya  asked,  with 
suddenly  enkindled  interest. 

"We  are  going  day  after  to-morrow,  by  the  sloop." 

"Up  the  Hudson!  Delightful!  It  is  a  journey 
I  have  dreamed  to  take,  —  and  you  know,  papa, 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  223 

my  Aunt  Josina  has  twenty  times  invited  me  to 
Albany." 

"Ja,  she  has  invited  you,"  Mr.  Vanbergen  as- 
sented. 

"  I'm  going !  "  Luya  declared,  with  energy. 

"  Heaven  bless  the  child !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van- 
bergen. "How  can  you  go,  Luya,  if  we  were  never 
so  willing  to  have  you  ?  " 

"Why,  with  Jacob.  I  cannot  imagine  being  in 
better  hands." 

"  But  you  can't  go  now,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen  objected, 
aghast.  "  You  have  been  telling  everybody  you  are 
to  give  a  party,  and  we  have  turned  the  house  inside 
out  to  make  ready  —  " 

"  The  party  can  wait ! "  said  Luya,  with  a  toss  of 
the  head,  as  if  she  were  defying  the  community  to 
advance  an  objection.  "  I  am  of  a  mind  to  get  away 
from  New  York  for  a  change.  You  have  seen  these 
two  days  how  much  I  am  out  of  health,  and  I  know 
nothing  so  like  to  cure  me  as  a  journey  to  Albany 
to  see  my  aunt.  If  you  oppose  me,  papa,  'twill  be  to 
send  me  to  bed  with  a  fever,  and,  like  enough,  to  my 
grave,  for  I  am  resolved  to  make  no  choice  but 
between  going  to  Albany  and  taking  to  my  bed  ;  and 
I  vow  I'm  so  much  inclined  to  the  latter  that  if  you 
delay  you  will  have  difficulty  in  persuading  me  to 
the  former." 

Mrs.  Vanbergen  prattled  disapproval  in  a  hurried, 


224  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

embarrassed  way,  not  altogether  sure  of  what  she 
was  saying,  but  very  certain  that  it  was  having  little 
influence  upon  Luya,  who  met  each  faltering  objec- 
tion so  sweepingly  that  the  good  lady  could  do 
nothing  at  last  but  fall  behind  the  orthodoxy  that  it 
would  scandalise  everybody  to  the  land's  end  should 
a  young  lady  make  the  long  journey  in  the  company 
of  a  young  gentleman. 

"Then  my  father  may  commit  me  to  the  captain's 
care  and  appoint  Jacob  the  custodian  of  the  captain, 
if  he  will,  —  or,  for  that,  you  might  go  with  me 
yourself,  mother,  —  for,  arrange  it  as  you  may,  the 
idea  has  so  got  possession  of  me  that  go  I  must,  if  I 
have  to  make  the  journey  as  a  runaway." 

"  Vife !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Vanbergen,  rising  from 
his  chair  as  if  lifted  by  an  inspiration,  "  I  vant  to  talk 
vit  you." 

He  beckoned  her  to  follow  him,  and  said  to  Luya, 
with  one  of  his  laboured  winks,  "Vait  till  ve  come 
pack,"  as  he  ushered  Mrs.  Vanbergen  out  of  the 
room. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  took  Mrs.  Vanbergen  comfort- 
ably by  the  arm,  and,  using  the  stem  of  his  pipe  to 
point  off  and  clarify  sentences,  explained  very  fully 
his  belief  that  the  trip  to  Albany  was  a  deliberately 
planned  scheme  on  the  part  of  Providence  with  which 
they  would  be  culpable  to  interfere.  He  saw  in  it 
a  purpose  to  correct  Luya's  mind  of  a  partiality  for 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  22$ 

another  and  restore  it  to  a  sympathy  with  Jacob. 
As  for  the  propriety  of  letting  her  go,  what  could  be 
urged  against  it  ?  There  would  be  a  party  of  them 
by  boat,  and  Luya  might  as  creditably  travel  in  a 
party  as  Miss  Norris  had  come  from  Boston  in  like 
way.  Above  it  all  was  the  fact  that  Jacob  had 
grown  up  in  the  relation  of  brother  to  Luya,  as  all 
the  town  knew. 

"  T'e  trouple  is,  vife,  t'at  you  haf  too  many  Eng- 
lish notions.  Put  as  I  am  a  Dutchman  I  voult  rat'er 
sent  Luya  vit  Jacob  t'an  let  her  go  vit  some  olt 
voomans,  ant  t'at's  so." 

"  Well,  Evert,  she  is  as  much  your  child  as  mine ; 
so  if  you  want  to  let  her  go  —  " 

"  Now,  vife,  t'at  is  t'e  times  I  kiss  you."  Suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  Mr.  Vanbergen  led  his  wife 
back  into  the  room,  where  Jacob  was  just  promising 
Hendrik  to  take  one  of  the  pigeons  with  him  to 
Albany  to  test  its  trustworthiness  as  a  "  homer." 

Mr.  Vanbergen  stopped  by  the  fireplace,  laid  his 
pipe  on  the  chimney-ledge,  and,  turning  about  to  face 
Luya,  silently  held  open  his  arms,  his  lips  smiling  an 
invitation. 

That  was  one  of  the  long  disused  intimacies  of  the 
days  when  she  was  a  child,  and  which  he  had  only 
employed  when  she  had  been  rebellious  and  he  wished 
to  assure  her  of  his  love  and  indulgence.  In  those 
young  days  she  had  gone  to  him  in  a  mental  mix 


226  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

of  stubbornness  and  penitence,  receiving  his  kiss 
shamefacedly,  and  it  revived  her  good-humour  now 
to  see  him  resorting  to  this  half-forgotten  way  of 
telling  her  that,  though  she  had  been  naughty,  he 
could  not  help  but  forgive  her. 

"  Yes,  I  am  only  a  child,  still,"  she  said,  as  his 
arms  closed  about  her,  "as  foolish  and-  as  wilful  as 
ever ;  and  you  are  just  the  same  dear  old  foolish 
papa  who  spares  the  rod  and  spoils  the  child." 

"  Ton't  say  t'ose  t'ings  ven  your  moeder  hears 
you,"  he  said,  striking  his  chubby  finger  on  her  lips. 
"  She  takes  advantages  of  t'em." 

"You  can't  say  that  I  spoiled  her,  Evert,"  Mrs. 
Vanbergen  objected.  "  Do  you  think  he  can, 
Jacob?" 

Jacob  smiled,  shaking  his  head.  He  could  not 
have  said  for  the  life  of  him  which  of  her  two  parents 
Luya  had  more  completely  under  her  pretty  thumb  ; 
but  he  knew  it  to  be  impossible  that  either  of  them, 
or  both  of  them,  or  all  the  world  beside,  could 
spoil  this  blameless  creature,  who  was  so  much 
the  better  for  having  her  own  way. 

There  was  no  need  to  put  into  words  the  assent 
Mr.  Vanbergen  had  expressed  in  his  embrace,  and 
for  the  little  time  after,  during  which  Jacob  remained, 
the  preparatory  details  and  prospects  of  the  momen- 
tous undertaking  were  discussed  with  greater  or  less 
enthusiasm.  Then  there  was  an  overlooking  and 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  22/ 

selecting  from  Luya's  wardrobe,  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
being  betrayed  by  the  excitement  of  it  into  bringing 
forth  and  offering  to  Luya  some  sacred  things  folded 
away  and  cherished  from  her  own  youth,  —  bits  of 
finery  that  she  had  worn  as  a  bride  and  of  which  she 
told  the  story  blushingly  and  laughingly ;  a  scrap  or 
two  of  lace  from  even  an  earlier  day ;  and,  finally,  a 
quaint  old  brooch  that  was  the  one  piece  of  jewelry 
Mrs.  Vanbergen  had  from  her  mother  as  a  keepsake, 
for  she  had  reverenced  it  too  much  to  wear  it  idly  as 
an  ornament.  The  two  women  busied  themselves 
far  into  the  night,  for  much  was  to  be  done  against 
the  sailing  of  the  boat,  and  there  were  none  too 
many  hours  for  the  doing.  Great  were  the  demands 
of  a  visit  to  be  made  at  a  distance  and  planned  to 
continue  "as  long  as  Aunt  Josina  will  keep  me." 
But  it  was  such  a  spirited  getting  ready  that  the 
good-byes  had  been  said,  and  the  sloop  was  making 
brisk  speed  away  to  the  fluttering  of  handkerchiefs 
and  the  roar  of  many  voices,  before  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
fully  realised  that  she  had  made  a  sacrifice ;  and  she 
went  home  with  less  spring  in  her  step  than  there 
had  ever  been  before. 

And  in  the  evening,  after  Hendrik  had  gone,  red- 
eyed  and  murmuring,  to  his  bed  in  the  room  beyond 
Luya's,  and  had  called  down-stairs  to  know  if  he 
might  not  sleep  in  Luya's  bed  for  that  night,  the 
mother  sat  in  the  low  armchair  by  the  window,  look- 


228  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

ing  out  on  the  bay,  watching  through  a  mist  of  tears 
the  lights  gleaming  here  and  there  like  low-hung  and 
wavering  stars,  feeling,  she  knew  not  why,  heavy- 
limbed  and  aweary.  Mr.  Vanbergen  was  smoking 
dejectedly  in  the  chimney-corner,  the  glow  from  his 
pipe  making  now  and  then  a  nimbus  in  the  dark. 
But  the  pipe  was  not  a  comforter  to-night.  It  had 
lost  its  magic  savour.  He  put  it  down  at  last,  half- 
smoked,  and  drew  his  chair  to  the  window  close 
beside  that  of  his  wife.  His  hand  reached  out  to 
take  hers  and  clasp  it  in  an  interwining  of  ringers. 
He  felt  the  need  of  this  drawing  near  to  her,  this 
silent  holding  of  her  hand  in  the  darkness.  And  he, 
too,  looked  out  at  the  lights  on  the  bay,  seeing  them 
through  a  mist. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

HAVING  acquired  a  taste  for  commercial  interests 
without  being  aware  of  it,  Mr.  Waring  was  made 
restless  and  disturbed  by  the  fact  that  his  capital  had 
become  suddenly  unproductive.  After  the  closing 
out  of  his  relations  with  Mr.  Vanbergen,  he  came  to 
haunt  the  Exchange  in  a  new  curiosity  to  see  the 
progress  of  trade  and  catch  something  of  the  excite- 
ment of  the  large  and  stirring  operations  of  the  big 
merchants  who  had  come  so  much  into  authority  in 
all  local  affairs  during  the  last  ten  years.  He  recog- 
nised the  change  that  was  coming  over  the  relations 
of  men  and  society,  and  perceived  that  many  of  the 
former  prejudices  against  trade  were  being  removed 
by  the  steadily  increasing  importance  of  mercantile 
affairs.  Though  there  were  still  well-defined  lines 
between  the  two  classes  of  the  community,  the  social 
life  was  rather  more  in  the  hands  of  the  merchant 
than  in  those  of  the  professional  and  "  gentry " 
order,  and  there  was  a  mingling  of  the  two  on  occa- 
sions in  a  way  to  prove  that  commerce  was  like  to 
have  the  better  of  it  anon.  If  the  better  fashion 
gave  brilliant  receptions  at  the  Fort  and  in  the  rooms 
229 


230  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

of  the  Black  Horse  Inn,  the  merchants  gave  equally 
imposing  and  only  less  elegant  gala-day  gatherings 
and  evening  balls  of  their  own,  having  quite  as  much 
money  as  their  neighbours  to  spend  in  hogsheads  of 
wine  and  other  prodigalities  of  good  cheer  demanded 
by  the  passion  of  immoderate  eating  and  drinking. 
Political  divisions,  too,  were  making  new  distinctions 
and  new  affinities  and  bringing  extremes  together,  so 
that  a  royalist  merchant  was  more  precious  to  the 
elite  than  a  gentleman  of  ancestral  worth  who  had 
the  bad  taste  to  shape  his  opinions  to  the  spirit  of 
the  opposition. 

Mr.  Waring  had  given  so  little  attention  to  the 
transformation  going  on  about  him  that  it  surprised 
him  to  find  to  what  an  extent  the  influence  of  the 
Exchange  was  beginning  to  dominate  the  minds  of 
men.  He  was  more  than  surprised  to  see  that  easy- 
going Evert  Vanbergen,  his  long-time  partner,  en- 
joyed a  degree  of  respect  among  his  fellow  merchants 
that,  in  some  instances,  was  enlarged  to  deference. 
But,  more  than  by  anything  else,  he  was  moved  by  the 
knowledge  that  fortunes  were  increasing  at  an  amaz- 
ing rate  about  him,  and  that  each  day  of  idleness  on 
the  part  of  his  guineas  was  a  day  of  serious  loss  to 
him.  He  saw,  more  distinctly  than  ever,  that  the 
golden  calf  was  the  deity  of  salvation  to  which  all 
the  other  great  and  little  deities  were  ranged  sub- 
ordinate. To  be  a  rich  man  was  the  same  as  being 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  23! 

a  great  man,  and  these  dealers  in  merchandise  had 
as  much  observance  from  the  multitude  as  did  the 
representatives  of  the  Crown  themselves.  Revolving 
these  considerations  in  his  mind,  Mr.  Waring  came 
to  the  determination  to  venture  his  capital  anew,  in- 
tending, however,  to  have  more  to  do  in  the  next 
instance  with  directing  the  enterprise.  He  imagined 
that  he  had  gained  experience  in  his  dormant  associa- 
tion with  Mr.  Vanbergen,  and  flattered  himself  that 
his  superior  quality  of  mind  would  be  vastly  to  the 
advantage  of  the  merchant  he  should  choose  to  ad- 
vise. Seeking  for  a  new  alliance,  he  remembered 
Vanbergen's  suggestion  of  Pieter  Harmsen  as  a 
proper  and  trusty  person  with  whom  to  make  terms 
in  business,  and,  after  some  days  of  reflection,  made 
his  overtures  to  that  end.  Mr.  Harmsen,  nothing 
loath,  came  very  readily  to  an  agreement,  and,  in  a 
short  time,  Mr.  Waring  began,  though  still  keeping 
in  the  background,  to  feel  the  proud  satisfaction  of 
personally  turning  at  the  wheel  of  fortune.  Mr. 
Vanbergen,  noting  the  guarded  intimacy  between  the 
two  and  understanding  it,  chuckled,  as  if  the  arrange- 
ment were  quite  of  his  own  making.  If  Mr.  Waring 
chose  to  experiment  with  the  most  timid  and  appre- 
hensive member  of  the  Exchange,  it  was  not  for  the 
advantage-loving  Mr.  Vanbergen  to  complain. 

The  first  enterprise  of  the  new  firm  was  to  outfit 
a  privateer,   which   seemed  the   readiest    means   to 


232  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

extend  trade,  now  that  hostilities  with  France  were 
so  well  under  way,  and  the  whole  merchant  service 
of  the  French  could  in  that  way  be  brought  under 
contribution.  The  decision  was  made  the  very  day 
on  which  Wallace  took  the  air  for  the  first  time 
since  his  being  brought  to  bed  of  Lieutenant  Wil- 
lett's  telling  marksmanship.  He  had  called  a  chair 
and  gone  for  a  talk  with  Jacob,  and  had  taken  it 
much  amiss  that  that  individual  should  have  chosen 
the  time  to  be  out  of  town.  Concluding  it  better, 
after  all,  to  come  first  to  an  understanding  with 
Luya,  he  ordered  the  chair-men  to  bear  him  to 
Mr.  Vanbergen's  house,  and  on  the  way  had  the  for- 
tune to  meet  Miss  Boylston,  in  the  escort  of  Allen 
'Bradford.  Miss  Boylston  had  so  many  congratula- 
tory speeches  to  offer,  and  showed  so  sincere  a  spirit 
in  their  lively  utterance,  that  Wallace  readily  made 
up  his  mind  to  the  comforting  belief  that  she  at 
least  had  heard  no  uncomplimentary  things  about 
him.  He  gathered,  indeed,  from  one  or  two  veiled 
remarks,  that  Miss  Boylston  was  of  the  flattering 
opinion  that  she  herself  had  been  the  subject  of  the 
quarrel  between  him  and  the  lieutenant,  and  that  she 
thought  none  the  less  of  him  for  having  so  nearly 
been  puffed  out  of  existence  on  her  account.  This 
piqued  his  curiosity,  for  he  could  hardly  divine  that 
the  lieutenant,  hoping  to  profit  in  the  young  lady's 
esteem  by  the  amiable  fiction,  had  led  Miss  Boylston 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  233 

to  think  that  the  uncertainty  as  to  whom  she  favoured 
most  among  the  young  gentlemen  of  her  suite  was 
the  basis  of  the  duel.  He  had  been  shrewd  enough 
to  avoid  the  error  of  saying  anything  to  the  discredit 
of  Waring,  and  Miss  Boylston  imagined  that  the  two 
young  men,  having  disposed  of  the  question  of  honour 
between  them,  were  upon  as  good  terms  of  polite 
rivalry  as  they  were  before.  But  this  explanation  of 
the  duel  had  done  much  more  than  flatter  an  empty 
vanity,  inasmuch  as  she  had  argued  from  it  that 
Wallace  could  have  no  very  serious  interest  in  Miss 
Vanbergen,  since  he  was  willing  to  risk  his  life  out 
of  devotion  to  another  lady,  and  that  lady  herself. 

"  Now  that  you  are  come  to  health  again  I  hope 
you  will  give  your  friends  no  further  occasion  to 
such  anxiety  in  your  behalf.  And  I  should  advise 
you,  before  coming  to  a  question  of  pistols  in  another 
instance,  to  inquire  the  lady's  sentiments  of  herself." 
Miss  Boylston  glanced  archly  from  Wallace  to  Brad- 
ford, to  inform  them  in  turn  how  much  acquainted 
she  was  with  the  matter. 

"  You  are  informed,  then,  that  there  was  a  lady 
concerned  ?  "  Wallace  asked. 

"  La,  Mr.  Waring,  there  is  never  a  certainty  what 
sets  young  gentlemen  to  such  an  adventure ;  but  I 
hope  you  are  not  for  denying  a  rumour  that  does  so 
much  credit  to  your  gallantry  ? " 

"  I  am  so  far  from  the  wish  to  lose  anything  from 


234  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

my  credit  that  I  will  even  take  the  reputation  rumour 
gives  me.  Why  have  I  not  seen  you  this  week  past, 
Allen?" 

"  I  told  you  the  last  morning  I  saw  you  that  I  was 
off  with  the  party  to  Albany.  But  you  were  in  so  ill 
a  humour  I  doubt  if  you  took  account  of  it.  I  have 
but  now  returned." 

"  I  remember  something  was  said  of  Albany.  You 
made  but  a  short  stop  there." 

"  The  shorter,  I  think,"  Miss  Boylston  volunteered, 
meaning  to  tease  him,  "  because  at  the  last  moment 
Miss  Norris  changed  her  mind  about  going." 

"  I  am  used  to  being  the  victim  of  a  lady's  caprice, 
Miss  Boylston,  and  do  not  much  disturb  myself  under 
them.  Besides,  I  was  on  commission,  so  that  a  lady 
the  less  in  the  party  —  " 

"  Fie,  Mr.  Bradford !  you  shall  not  pretend  to 
slight  my  friend.  All  the  world  knows  how  much 
you  affect  Miss  Norris,  —  though  I  dare  say  you  are 
not  more  loyal  than  you  should  be  when  other  pretty 
women  are  about.  Confess,  now,"  Miss  Boylston 
hazarded  a  shot,  looking  sidewise  at  Wallace  as  she 
spoke,  "  confess  that  you  philandered  with  Miss 
Vanbergen  the  better  part  of  the  journey." 

"Was  Miss  Vanbergen  of  the  party?"  Wallace 
demanded,  eagerly,  feeling  a  sudden  dizziness,  and 
taking  hold  of  the  window-frame.  "And — and 
perhaps  Mr.  Wilbruch,  too?" 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  235 

"  Why,  yes,"  Bradford  said,  surprised  by  Wallace's 
vehemence,  "  I  supposed  you  had  known." 

"  Does  it  concern  you  so  much,  Mr.  Waring  ? " 
Miss.  Boylston  asked,  her  smile  giving  a  satirical 
curve  to  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  It  does  not  concern  me  at  all,"  Wallace  answered, 
more  curtly  than  he  would  have  approved  in  another. 
"  I  was  thinking  —  The  truth  is,"  he  interrupted 
himself  with  a  laugh,  "  I  have  lived  so  much  a  hermit 
these  fifteen  days  that  I  am  astonished  to  find  how 
the  world  goes  on  without  me.  I  came  forth  to-day 
in  search  of  Mr.  Wilbruch,  and  I'm  vexed  to  find 
that  he  is  not  at  my  disposition.  Happily  'tis  a  busi- 
ness can  wait.  Are  you  minded,  Miss  Boylston,  to 
spend  an  hour  at  the  tea-gardens  ?  If  you  and  Mr. 
Bradford  will  do  me  the  honour  to  drink  a  dish  with 
me,  I  should  think  my  first  day  at  liberty  well  cele- 
brated. I'll  be  bound  we'll  find  there  some  friends 
to  help  us  to  entertainment." 

Miss  Boylston  consenting  to  drink  some  tea,  Wal- 
lace was  for  dismissing  his  chair,  declaring  he  had 
no  purpose  to  coddle  himself  another  hour.  The 
lady,  however,  would  not  hear  of  such  an  imprudence, 
vowing  that  she  would  permit  him  to  walk  only  with 
the  chair  following,  she  reserving  the  right  to  order 
him  back  into  it  whenever  it  should  please  her. 

They  made  a  merry  affair  of  it  at  the  Gardens, 
Wallace  addressing  himself  to  Miss  Boylston  with  so 


236  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

much  admiration  and  gaiety  that  Bradford  began  to 
have  some  doubt  if  Luya's  absence  was  to  weigh  very 
heavily  upon  this  hearty  and  light-spirited  convales- 
cent. There  was  nothing  in  the  lively  flow  of  good- 
nature nor  in  the  lavish  compliments  that  made  Miss 
Boylston  colour  with  pleasure,  to  suggest  the  discon- 
solate lover. 

"  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Waring,  you  have  been  at  books 
of  wit  and  humour  in  your  seclusion,  and  taken  the 
best  things  into  your  memory.  I  have  never  known 
you  half  so  entertaining." 

"Then  the  credit  is  yours,  madam.  I  take  my 
inspiration  from  your  looks ;  and  if  I  am  in  better 
vein  than  common  'tis  because  your  eyes  provoke 
me," 

"  What,  Mr.  Waring !  Do  they  provoke  you  ? " 

"  Faith,  they  do,  and  most  agreeably.  Each  glance 
of  them  is  equal  to  a  bottle  of  canary,  with  the  dif- 
ference that  I  should  set  no  limit  to  my  indulgence." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Bradford,  I  appeal  to  you  if  it  be 
gallant  to  lay  one's  intoxication  to  the  charge  of  a 
lady's  eyes.  Why,  on  my  word,  if  Mr.  Waring's 
logic  be  allowed,  each  time  he  has  more  than  his 
share  of  canary  he  may  excuse  himself  with  the  plea 
that  I  have  stared  him  out  of  countenance." 

"  Fairly  hit  off,  Wallace !  "  said  Bradford,  laughing. 

"  Egad,  Miss  Boylston,  you  would  make  of  me  the 
most  intemperate  man  on  the  island  with  such  an 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  237 

excuse,  for  I'd  be  drunk  from  Sunday  to  Saturday, 
merely  for  the  reputation  of  having  been  so  much 
in  your  gaze." 

"  Then  you  would  so  soon  lose  every  other  repu- 
tation that  I  could  not  bear  to  have  you  come  into 
my  sight.  I  perceive  that  you  wish  to  drive  me  to 
take  the  veil." 

"Then  it  should  have  a  crown  of  orange  buds 
above  it." 

Miss  Boylston  sent  the  most  becoming  of  rosy 
tints  to  frolic  in  her  cheeks.  She  suddenly  dis- 
covered that  the  party  was  just  too  numerous  by  one, 
and  wondered  by  what  adroit  means  Mr.  Bradford 
could  be  brought  to  appreciate  the  fact.  But  she 
replied  promptly  to  Wallace  : 

"I  know  not  where  to  find  one  I  could  trust  to 
make  me  such  a  crown,  Mr.  Waring." 

"Take  counsel  of  me;  I  know  the  quality  of  every 
gentleman  who  is  worth  a  crown  between  the  Fort 
and  Greenwich." 

"Then,  when  I'm  in  the  mind  for  ornament  of 
the  kind,  I'll  think  on  your  offer.  La,  Mr.  Bradford, 
are  you  going  ? "  she  asked,  suggestively,  as  Brad- 
ford rose  to  change  the  position  of  his  chair. 

"  If  you  are  ready,"  he  answered,  not  seeming  to 
have  noticed  how  much  her  question  was  a  permission 
to  his  leave-taking. 

"  I  suppose  we  owe  it  to  Mr.  Waring  to  send  him 


238  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

home,"  she  said,  rising,  a  little  vexed  by  Bradford's 
obtuseness.  "  It  is  not  proper  he  should  be  allowed 
too  much  dissipation  in  his  first  ^day  out." 

Wallace  protested  gracefully  in  further  compli- 
ments upon  her  restorative  influence,  but  they  moved 
toward  the  spot  where  the  chair  was  waiting.  Be- 
fore reaching  it,  however,  Wallace  had  persuaded 
Miss  Boylston  to  take  his  place  in  the  chair,  insisting 
that  it  would  do  him  a  world  of  good  if  he  might 
walk  to  the  inn  on  the  support  of  Bradford's  arm. 

When  they  were  alone,  Bradford  took  Waring 
by  the  arm  in  a  monitory  fashion,  and  demanded, 
discontentedly : 

"  What  the  devil,  Wallace,  has  come  over  you  ? 
If  Miss  Boylston  does  not  imagine  you  are  on  the 
way  to  a  proposal  to  her,  she  has  less  complacency 
than  the  rest  of  her  sex." 

"  Well,  and  if  I  were,  Allen  ? " 

"  Deuce  take  it,  Wallace,  you  are  not  a  fop  to  play 
at  skittles  with  the  hearts  of  all  the  women  of  your 
acquaintance  !  And  if  I  am  to  give  any  value  to 
your  confidences,  I  think  you  owe  to  Miss  Van- 
bergen  —  " 

"Don't  preach  from  a  text  of  which  you  have 
only  learned  the  part,  Allen.  Give  no  concern  to 
my  conduct  on  Miss  Vanbergen's  account.  I  have 
her  blessing  to  go  to  the  devil  in  what  manner  I 
please,  and  if  I  marry  Miss  Boylston  or  the  speckled 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  239 

wench  who  scrubs  at  the  inn  'twill  be  one  with 
her." 

"  You  have  quarrelled  ? " 

"No,  egad!  I  haven't  had  that  pleasure.  I've 
been  thrown,  Allen,  without  so  much  as  a  shy  by 
way  of  warning.  But  I'm  not  for  discussing  the 
case.  I  have  but  one  argument  to  make  when  the 
opportunity  shall  offer,  and  that  without  putting  in 
peril  the  rules  of  grammar,"  cuffing  at  his  sword-hilt 
as  if  he  were  boxing  an  ear.  "  Do  you  know  how 
long  the  absence  is  to  be  ?  " 

"  She  said  it  was  indefinite  whether  she  should 
stay  three  weeks  or  as  many  months." 

"  She !  I  said  nothing  of  a  « she.'  I  asked  how 
long  Mr.  Wilbruch  would  be  from  town." 

"  I  think  he  means  to  push  on  to  Boston,  where 
he  has  some  relatives.  Jacob,  you  know,  is  thinking 
to  go  to  college  in  the  fall,"  Bradford  added,  with 
a  smile. 

"  Then  he'll  not  return  to  New  York  ? " 

"  Oh,  but  he  will,  I  think.  He  said  he  would  see 
me  again  in  six  weeks." 

"  Six  weeks.     Well,  'tis  not  an  interminable  time." 

Mr.  Waring  called  in  at  the  inn  to  see  Wallace  in 
the  evening,  and,  in  the  general  talk,  spoke  of  his 
intention  to  send  out  a  privateer  as  a  stroke  of  com- 
mercial enterprise.  Indifferent  at  first,  Wallace  came 
suddenly  to  an  interest  in  the  project,  when  his  father 


24O  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

said  that  the  privateers  would,  doubtless,  be  invited 
to  cooperate  with  the  regular  navy  sent  over  by 
England  in  the  contemplated  attack  on  Canada. 

"  When  do  you  think  to  send  out  your  privateer  ? " 

"As  soon  as  the  vessel  can  be  equipped,  —  in 
eight  or  ten  days." 

"  And  who  is  to  have  command  of  it  ? " 

"That  I  leave  to  Harmsen.  I  am  not  seen  in 
these  affairs." 

"  Sir,  I  desire  you  to  render  me  a  service." 

As  Wallace  had  recovered  health,  something  of  Mr. 
Waring's  determination'  to  have  his  will  on  the  mar- 
riage question  returned  to  him  ;  and  he  was  inclined 
to  keep  the  screws  as  tight  as  possible.  Wallace 
should  have  the  allowance  Mr.  Waring  had  proposed, 
but  "  services  "  beyond  that  were  to  be  considered. 
Mr.  Waring  looked  at  Wallace  without  manifesting 
any  haste  to  learn  the  nature  of  the  service  desired. 

"I  would  have  the  command  of  your  privateer," 
Wallace  explained. 

Mr.  Waring  opened  his  eyes  wide  in  astonishment. 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking,  Wallace!  Tis  the 
maddest  freak  I've  known  your  fancy  take.  I  should 
as  soon  consent  to  send  you  ballooning  to  the  moon 
in  a  bread  pannier !  God  bless  me  !  do  you  imagine 
you  can  as  easily  take  charge  of  a  ship  of  war  as  you 
will  handle  a  tandem  in  Hyde  Park  ? " 

"  Quite,  sir ;  for  I  am  as  good  a  sailor  as  horseman, 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  241 

and  know  the  ropes  as  well  as  I  know  the  ribbons. 
You  must  know,  sir,  I've  done  some  cruising,  and,  as 
I  make  it  my  profit  to  learn  the  working  of  whatever 
thing  engages  me,  I  dare  claim  to  know  enough  of 
ships  to  make  a  respectable  captain." 

Wallace  combated  his  father's  objections  so  well, 
both  on  the  point  of  his  merit  and  that  of  the  emi- 
nently honourable  character  of  the  position  sought, 
that  the  discussion  ended  in  Mr.  Waring's  grudging 
agreement  to  influence  Mr.  Harmsen's  judgment  in 
the  selection  and  appointment  of  a  commanding  officer 
to  the  privateer.  In  due  time,  the  ship's  papers  and 
commission  were  made  out  and  delivered  formally  to 
Captain  Wallace  Waring,  —  to  the  great  wonder 
of  society,  and  particularly  that  part  of  society  rep- 
resented in  the  person  of  Miss  Sophie  Boylston,  who 
contrived,  however,  to  send  a  flag  which  she  begged 
might  be  flown  as  the  ensign  of  Captain  Waring's 
ship. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

IT  had  been  Jacob's  intention  to  quit  Albany  as 
soon  as  the  conference  should  end ;  but  a  good  many 
days  had  passed  since  then,  the  colonies  having 
readily  pledged  themselves  to  the  war,  and  he  still 
found  excuse  for  deferring  his  departure.  Luya's 
Uncle  Bolton  had  proved  to  be  a  man  of  much  local 
importance,  having  been  long  identified  with  the 
official  life  of  the  city,  and  his  daughter  Millicent 
was  a  young  lady  of  some  fashion.  This  had  plunged 
Luya  at  once  into  a  round  of  pleasant  dissipations, 
the  eddies  of  which  caught  the  unresisting  Jacob  in 
their  swirl,  and  lulled  him  into  a  half-forgetfulness 
of  the  shadowy  relatives  in  Boston,  —  or,  to  be  exact, 
in  Salem,  for  "  Boston  "  was  an  indefinite  York  term 
for  a  large  area  of  Massachusetts  towns  and  settle- 
ments. He  imagined  that  it  was  the  unwonted  ex- 
citements and  interests  of  a  new  experience  which 
detained  him  from  his  journey  to  the  East ;  but  he 
cared  little  enough  for  such  trivialities  of  the  idle 
world,  and  would  have  taken  coach  from  the  best  of 
them,  had  not  Luya  held  him  with  the  smiling  com- 
plaint that  he  owed  her  some  championship  till 
242 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  243 

she  should  be  better  acquainted  with  the  Albany 
beaux.  And  he  lingered,  more  and  more  loath  to  go 
from  her,  even  after  the  acquaintance  with  the  gentle- 
men of  the  town  had  progressed  to  an  intimacy  which 
made  Jacob's  championship  quite  a  superfluous  affair. 
She  came  to  be  so  much  in  favour  that  Jacob  found 
his  chief  pleasure  gradually  narrowing  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  happiness  to  which  he  could  make 
but  slight  contribution.  She  seemed  withdrawn  from 
his  sphere.  She  decked  herself  in  worldliness  with 
such  lively  abandon  that  the  pursuit  of  gaiety 
appeared  to  have  become  a  fashion  with  her.  Frivol- 
ity and  the  toilet  took  possession  of  her,  and  very 
pretty  work  they  made  of  her,  Jacob  thought,  for 
there  was  no  denying  that  the  liveries  of  fashion 
were  vastly  becoming  to  Miss  Vanbergen.  She  wore 
seductive  new  gowns  ravishingly,  and  the  days  were 
as  processions  of  new  gowns,  Jacob  wondering  whence 
they  came,  they  were  so  much  like  the  overnight 
work  of  some  benevolent  old  woman  with  a  wand. 
Her  mind,  too,  took  on  a  new  dress,  and  bundled  all 
serious  thoughts  as  cast-off  garments  into  the  rag-bag 
of  folly.  She  railed  at  Jacob's  soberness,  and  recom- 
mended him  to  the  society  of  a  pattern  young  gentle- 
man who  had  the  nimbleness  of  a  dancing-master 
and  the  noisy  wit  of  a  comedian,  besides  enjoying 
the  credit  of  having  pinked  his  man  while  practising 
a  pirouette  for  the  next  Assembly. 


244  IN  OLD  W£W   YORK. 

"  I  vow,  Jacob,"  she  remonstrated  on  one  occa- 
sion, "  I  cannot  find  that  it  has  profited  you  so  much 
to  come  abroad.  For  all  you  have  picked  up  to  your 
betterment  you  had  as  well  stayed  in  New  York." 

And  Jacob  had  smiled  in  replying : 

"  You  have  picked  up  enough  for  us  both,  Luya." 

"  I  hope  I  have  done  very  well,"  she  admitted ; 
"but  I'd  not  have  it  thought  you  could  have  been 
so  long  from  home  without  showing  some  colour  of 
other  soils.  If  you  will  do  no  more  than  learn  to 
carry  a  sword  as  Mr.  Hepwell  does  his,  or  make 
such  an  angle  of  the  elbow  as  that  when  Mr.  Living- 
ston lifts  a  lady's  hand  to  kiss,  I  should  be  well 
enough  pleased  with  your  education." 

But,  having  no  faith  in  his  ability  to  come  at 
either  of  these  masterful  accomplishments,  Jacob 
urged  his  way  to  the  coaching-office  on  the  last  day 
of  his  third  week  and  booked  a  box  seat  for  the  fol- 
lowing Tuesday  morning.  Luya  had  agreed  to  lend 
herself  to  his  entertainment  the  afternoon  preceding 
his  departure.  He  wished  to  guard  against  any  in- 
trusions upon  his  exclusive  rights  in  her  company  on 
this  farewell  occasion.  He  could  hit  upon  no  better 
means  to  secure  the  grace  of  privacy  than  a  row  upon 
the  river,  idling  among  the  cool,  shadowed  spots  into 
which  he  could  pull  to  rest  from  the  fatigue  of  row- 
ing. He  proposed  the  plan  hesitatingly,  doubting 
that  she  would  approve  it ;  but  she  consented  so 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  24$ 

readily  that  he  could  not  thank  her  for  the  joy  of  it ; 
and  when  they  were  really  at  rest  in  one  of  the  shel- 
tered inlets  of  the  farther  shore,  well  up  from  the 
town,  his  contented  heart  had  no  language  but  a  sigh. 
His  silence  seemed  to  be  gratifying  to  Luya,  since  she 
sat  for  a  long  time  without  attempting  to  arouse  him 
from  it.  Being  alone  with  Jacob  in  this  way  set  her 
thoughts  running  along  lines  they  had  studiously 
avoided  for  many  days,  and  Jacob  had  her  much 
less  to  himself  than  appearances  deceived  him  into 
believing.  It  was  not  a  pleasing  reverie  into  which 
she  had  drifted  with  the  still  rocking  of  the  boat. 
The  smile  on  her  lips  was  not  more  indicative  of 
amiability  than  were  the  little  puckers  between  her 
eyebrows,  or  the  quick  tapping  of  her  fingers  on  the 
gunwale  of  the  boat.  When  she  remembered  to 
glance  consciously  at  Jacob,  she  encountered  his 
rapt,  devotional  gaze,  and  exclaimed,  almost  suppli- 
catingly : 

"  Don't  look  at  me  in  that  wise,  Jacob  ! " 

Jacob  flushed,  disconcerted  by  her  words  and 
curiously  struck  by  her  tone. 

"  Why  not,  Luya  ?  " 

"  Because  it  makes  me  furious." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly  a  moment,  then, 
lowering  his  eyes,  said,  hardly  loud  enough  to  be 
heard: 

"  I  did  not  think  to  offend  you,  Luya." 


246  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"And  you  have  not  offended  me,  Jacob.  It  is 
myself  offends  me.  But  I  can't  bear  to  have  you 
look  at  me  as  if  I  were  something  to  worship,  when 
I  feel  like  the  most  worthless  creature  in  the  uni- 
verse." She  spoke  passionately,  and  he  looked  at 
her  wonderingly. 

"What  would  you  say,  Jacob,"  she  went  on,  hurry- 
ing over  her  words,  "of  the  woman  who  could  turn 
from  the  man  who  would  give  his  soul  in  love  of  her, 
and  throw  herself  into  the  arms  of  a  man  who  only 
thought  to  amuse  himself  with  her  as  with  any  other 
toy  of  an  hour  ? " 

"I  should  pity  her,  Luya." 

"And  what  would  you  say  if  she  should  go  on 
loving  the  man  after  she  learned  how  grossly  he  had 
betrayed  her  ?  " 

"  I  should  still  pity  her,  Luya." 

"  And  you  would  not  despise  her  ? " 

"Why  should  she  be  despised ? " 

"And  suppose  she  should  marry  a  man  she  does 
not  love,  taking  him  only  because  her  pride  sought 
a  shelter  from  its  shame  ?  " 

"  I  should  pity  her  more  than  ever,  then." 

"Would  you  marry  such  a  woman,  Jacob  ?  " 

"  If  I  loved  her.     Why  not  ?  " 

"  Even  if  you  knew  she  did  not  love  you,  —  that 
is,  did  not  love  you  as  wife  should  love  her  hus- 
band?" 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  247 

"  If  she  were  a  good  woman.  One  must  love  more 
than  the  other.  The  man  can  do  with  least  love.  If 
the  man  loves,  the  woman  will  come  to  have  some 
love,  too.  Marriage  is  protection  and  being  protected. 
That  makes  love." 

She  stared  at  him,  astonished.  It  was  not  like 
Jacob  to  talk  in  this  manner.  The  ideas  so  simply, 
even  candidly  expressed,  did  not  seem  to  belong  to 
Jacob,  or,  if  they  did,  Jacob  was  something  other 
than  she  had  ever  imagined  him  to  be.  She  recalled 
the  scene  of  his  proposing  to  her,  and  remembered 
that  she  had  laughed  when  he  spoke  of  love.  The 
remembrance  brought  the  colour  to  her  cheeks,  and 
she  looked  down  into  her  lap,  toying  with  a  ribbon 
of  her  gown.  After  a  silence,  her  eyes  still  down- 
cast, she  asked  : 

"  Suppose  I  were  the  woman,  Jacob  ? " 

He  drew  in  his  breath  deeply,  but  made  no  an- 
swer ;  and  a  smile  came  to  his  lips  in  mockery  of  the 
thought  that  this  girl  so  greatly  to  be  desired  could 
ever  love  and  not  be  loved  in  return.  He  could  not 
so  much  as  imagine  that  she  had  been  thinking  of 
herself  in  asking  those  strange  questions.  She 
waited  some  moments  for  his  answer,  then  lifted 
her  eyes  to  him  : 

"  Jacob  —  " 

"Yes,  Luya." 

She  leaned  over  to  catch  a  floating  leaf  from  the 


248  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

river.  She  shook  the  water  from  the  leaf,  and,  re- 
garding it  as  she  spoke,  said,  slowly : 

"  If  you  will  have  me,  I  will  go  to  Boston  with 
you  to-morrow  as  your  wife." 

"  Luya ! " 

He  made  a  movement  forward,  with  his  arms  out- 
stretched to  take  her,  the  light  of  a  great  yearning 
in  his  face,  and  had  she  but  lifted  her  eyes,  he  must 
have  caught  her  to  his  breast.  But  when,  after  a 
pause,  she  looked  up  to  question  his  silence,  she  saw 
his  calm  face  only  a  little  paler  than  usual,  and  his 
hands  grasping  the  handles  of  the  oars,  as  he  had 
gripped  them  in  the  need  to  lay  hold  on  some  support. 
She  understood  that  pallor  and  the  grip  of  those 
strong  hands. 

"I  am  in  earnest,  Jacob,"  she  said,  firmly,  but  in 
low  tone.  "  You  love  me  ;  you  know  what  my  feel- 
ing is  for  you.  My  parents  already  love  you  as  their 
son.  Take  me,  if  you  will  have  me." 

"  And  Wallace  Waring  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  hate  him  !  "  she  answered,  vehemently. 

He  came  nearer  and  took  hold  of  one  of  the  hands 
clenched  in  her  lap.  He  pressed  it  open  and  held  it 
half-hidden  in  his  own  great  hand.  He  began  to  see 
into  the  trouble  of  her  heart.  He  wished  to  comfort 
her. 

"Why  do  you  hate  him  ? " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?     You  know." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  249 

"  No  ;  I  don't  know.     Tell  me." 

"  You  know  why  he  fought  with  Lieutenant  Wil- 
lett." 

"Yes,"  releasing  her  hand,  "I  know  why  they 
fought.  But  there  was  no  dishonour  to  Wallace. 
And  if  you  have  heard  the  story  of  the  quarrel,  you 
should  know  that  he  must  have  paid  the  debt  before 
there  could  be  a  duel.  The  fault  was  not  his  that 
the  debt  was  not  paid  in  time  to  prevent  the  quarrel. 
That  was  because  his  father  —  " 

"  Of  what  are  you  talking,  Jacob  ?  "  Luya  demanded, 
interrupting  him  with  an  eager  hopefulness.  "  What 
are  you  saying  of  debts  ?  Was  their  quarrel  about  a 
debt  ?  Only  about  a  debt,  Jacob  ? " 

"What  did  you  think  it  was,  Luya?"  he  asked, 
guiltily  afraid  that  he  had  betrayed  Waring's  confi- 
dence. 

"  Answer  me,  Jacob  !  Their  quarrel  was  about  a 
debt,  —  a  debt  of  the  gaming-table  ?  " 

He  was  troubled  what  to  say.  He  did  not  quite 
know  how  to  interpret  her  eagerness,  the  trembling 
anxiety,  this  mixing  of  hope  with  fear  in  her  expres- 
sion, this  apparent  desire  to  have  an  affirmative 
answer. 

"  It  was  about  a  debt,"  he  admitted,  guardedly. 

"  And  not  about  — "  She  suddenly  arrested  her- 
self and  changed  the  question,  "  There  was  no  other 
cause  ? " 


250  Iff  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

He  shook  his  head ;  but  she  saw  some  embarrass- 
ment in  his  face,  and  it  compelled  her  to  ask  the  one 
question  that  she  had  need  to  have  answered  directly. 

"It  is  not  true,  then,  that  it  had  anything  to  do 
with  Miss  Boylston  ?  " 

Jacob's  hesitancy  was  done  with.  He  understood 
now. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  earnestly  ;  "  there  was  nothing 
to  do  with  Miss  Boylston.  If  you  have  thought  that, 
you  have  been  unjust  to  Wallace." 

"  Oh,  Jacob ! "  she  cried,  her  heart  rebuking  her 
for  the  joy  she  could  not  but  let  him  see  in  her  face, 
"  I  have  been  most  cruel  to  you.  I  have  added  to 
your  unhappiness  —  but  I  did  not  mean  to  give  you 
pain  —  I  did  not  mean  to  worry  you  —  I  would  have 
done  what  I  said  if  you  had  not  told  me —  " 

"  Hush,  Luya,  I  know,"  he  said,  stroking  her  hand. 
"  You  have  not  been  unkind  to  me.  You  have  not 
made  me  unhappy." 

"  And  you  forgive  me  ?  You  forgive  the  heart  - 
lessness,  the  selfishness  ?  for  I  was  thinking  only  of 
myself,  and  not  of  the  wrong  to  you." 

His  smile  answered  her  better  than  his  words. 

"  It  is  Wallace  you  must  ask  to  forgive  you.  I 
have  only  to  thank  you  for  showing  me  that  you 
would  trust  me  at  need.  Shall  we  row  back  ? " 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THOUGH  Mr.  Vanbergen  had  certainly  never  had 
a  serious  intention  of  resorting  to  any  sort  of  busi- 
ness artifice  to  trick  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Waring, 
he  was,  nevertheless,  not  above  the  human  frailty 
of  chuckling  over  the  embarrassments  which  Fate 
showed  a  disposition  to  put  in  the  way  of  the  new 
secret  firm.  Pieter  Harmsen  (or  Nick  Harmsen,  as 
he  was  commonly  called,  for  his  parents  had  been  at 
the  extravagance  of  having  him  christened  Pieter 
Nikolaas)  knew  how  to  thrive  peacefully  in  modest 
ways  ;  but  the  larger  demands  of  wide-reaching  en- 
terprise taxed  his  wits  beyond  their  cunning.  He, 
therefore,  yielded  himself  meekly  to  the  dominance  of 
Mr.  Waring,  who,  deceived  by  his  belief  that  he  had 
gotten  a  deal  of  business  knowledge  from  his  purse 
relations  with  Mr.  Vanbergen,  advised  many  heroic 
ventures  in  addition  to  the  sending  out  of  the  pri- 
vateer, of  which,  by  the  way,  nothing  had  been  heard 
in  the  two  months  since  it  sailed  away.  These  ven- 
tures were  chiefly  of  an  experimental  character,  it 
being  Mr.  Waring' s  theory  that  new  roads  offer  the 
shortest  cuts  to  success  in  commercial  undertakings. 
251 


252  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

He  had  invested  in  the  silk  industry,  which  was 
making  a  vain  struggle  to  come  into  competition 
with  foreign  productions,  and  now  confessed  that  he 
had  retired  that  much  money  from  service  for  an 
indefinite  time.  A  vessel  heavily  laden  with  tobacco, 
sugar,  and  other  colonial  virtues,  destined  for  the 
home  market,  had  been  caught  in  the  tempest  of 
September  gih,  and  foundered  under  her  bad  treat- 
ment, scarcely  allowing  the  crew  time  to  put  off  in 
the  long-boat.  And  Harmsen's  one  chartered  ship 
used  in  the  Indian  trade  was  so  long  overdue  that 
fears  were  entertained  of  her  having  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  French  corsairs  or  other  equally  rapa- 
cious pirates.  As  for  Wallace  and  his  privateer,  Mr. 
Waring  entertained  the  gloomiest  forebodings  as  to 
the  probable  fate  that  had  befallen  them.  Altogether, 
Mr.  Waring  was  not  far  from  the  opinion  that  the  hier- 
archy of  devils  had  organised  a  particularly  malicious 
campaign  for  his  personal  vexation.  In  the  ratio  of 
his  injuries  was  the  increase  of  his  animosity  toward 
Mr.  Vanbergen  and  his  household,  though  he  did 
not  waste  any  thought  in  the  attempt  to  make  a 
logical  connection  between  the  disasters  and  Mr. 
Vanbergen's  unfailing  urbanity.  It  was  enough  for 
him  to  know  that  he  had  not  prospered  since  Van- 
bergen turned  him  out  at  Luya's  instigation. 

When  Luya  returned  from  Albany,  only  to  learn 
that  Wallace  was  on  the  high  seas,  doubtless  cruising 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  253 

away  whatever  remained  of  his  kindly  thoughts  of 
her,  Mr.  Waring  had  not  yet  sipped  enough  from  his 
cup  of  misfortune  to  feel  any  bitterness  against  the 
young  lady  who  had,  as  he  came  to  think,  forced 
that  cup  to  his  lips.  He  greeted  her  with  great 
affability  on  their  first  chance  meeting  in  the  Parade, 
and  inquired  with  apparent  interest  if  she  were  as 
loyal  to  New  York  as  before,  and  if  she  had  come 
back  to  fire  the  zeal  of  her  townsmen  for  the  Cana- 
dian conquest.  Her  outward  show  was  as  amiable 
as  his  own,  and  her  sincerity  much  less  to  be  ques- 
tioned, for  the  reason  that  she  felt  a  sort  of  vicarious 
drawing  nigh  to  the  son  in  smothering  the  resent- 
ments roused  by  the  father's  ungraciousness  on  a 
particular  and,  to  her,  memorable  occasion.  She 
was  very  willing,  therefore,  that  Mr.  Waring  should 
so  condescendingly  ignore  the  fact  that  she  might 
have  some  reason  to  feel  indignant  with  him. 

Their  chance  meetings  in  the  Parade,  on  the  Bat- 
tery, in  the  Trinity  churchyard,  or  at  some  gathering 
at  the  inn,  continued  for  some  time  to  be  marked 
by  a  mildly  formal  courtesy  on  his  part  and  by  a 
responsive  sunniness  on  hers.  But,  as  the  business 
mischances  began  to  plague*  him,  his  friendliness 
toward  Luya  commenced  to  chill,  and,  after  a  time, 
his  manner  came  so  near  to  aggressive  rudeness  that 
whenever  she  passed  him  in  the  walk  he  would 
glance  at  her  as  if  she  were  a  mere  vagrant  of  the 


254  IN  OLD 

highways.  Small  wonder  if  the  rebellion  of  her 
spirit  rose  to  homicidal  intensity  at  times,  and  made 
her  fancy  how  very  agreeable  it  would  be  to  be  able 
to  look  a  man  to  death ;  but  Miss  Vanbergen  was 
not  inept  enough  to  let  her  weakness  be  seen,  and 
she  always  returned  Mr.  Waring's  glance  with  such 
a  smile  of  ingenuous  bewilderment  as  finally  drove 
him  to  avoiding  her  altogether.  It  is  very  humiliat- 
ing to  have  a  pert-faced  young  lady  so  hopelessly 
unconscious  of  her  effacement  from  one's  recollec- 
tion. But  Mr.  Waring  was  the  more  irritated  against 
Luya,  and  came  the  more  heartily  to  hate  her,  for  the 
truly  excellent  reason  that  he  could  not  justify  to 
himself  his  determined  opposition  to  her.  He  con- 
fessed with  bitterness  that  she  had  as  many  virtues 
and  qualities  to  recommend  her  to  esteem  as  any 
young  lady  of  his  acquaintance;  and  now  that  she 
had  come  to  give  herself  fashionable  airs,  losing  no 
opportunity  to  be  seen  in  the  gay  assemblies  of  what 
Mr.  Zenger  styled  the  elite,  Mr.  Waring  was  ex- 
tremely annoyed  to  observe  that  she  had  no  idea 
of  a  proper  subordination  to  Miss  Boylston,  and  that 
the  young  gentlemen  abetted  her  presumption.  To 
aggravate  his  discontent  with  her,  the  Governor  him- 
self had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  think  Miss  Van- 
bergen a  devilishly  pretty  young  lady,  and  showed  her 
the  marked  politeness,  one  afternoon,  of  promenad- 
ing with  her  under  the  elms  during  an  uninterrupted 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  255 

thirty  minutes,  much  to  the  scandal  of  ladies  who 
had  never  been  given  the  opportunity  of  declining 
a  favour  so  unusual.  Moreover,  Mr.  Waring  had 
heard  an  impudent  coxcomb  declaring  his  opinion 
that  Miss  Vanbergen  would  make  a  mighty  fine 
corner-stone  on  which  to  pose  some  clever  man's 
career.  This  was  an  impeachment  of  his  own  judg- 
ment for  which  he  held  Miss  Vanbergen  responsible, 
thinking  it  a  sort  of  vice  in  her  that  she  should  come 
so  much  into  notice  after  he  had  been  at  pains  to 
define  for  her  just  the  proper  level  of  her  aspirations. 
Surprising  himself  one  evening  with  a  regret  that  he 
had  been  so  positive  in  his  opposition  to  Wallace's 
purpose  to  marry  the  girl,  Mr.  Waring  routed  the 
sentiment  so  disloyal  to  principle  by  an  emphatic 
"  Damn  the  witch !  I'd  see  him  drowned  before  I'd 
consent  to  his  having  her !  "  And  then  he  began  to 
wonder  if  Wallace  could  have  gone  down  into  the 
deeps  under  the  fury  of  that  storm  of  September  9th. 
He  went  to  the  window,  his  face  a  little  grayer  than 
its  wont,  and  looked  out  over  the  black  patch  of  sea 
as  if  there  to  find  an  answer. 

But  Wallace  had  not  gone  down  into  the  deeps, 
nor  had  he  once  thought  of  making  so  unprofitable  an 
end  of  his  adventure.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  very  act 
of  making  booty  of  a  promising-looking  brig  that 
flaunted  the  French  colours,  he  had  been  set  upon 
by  a  Gallic  man-of-war,  and  only  escaped  going  to 


256  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

the  bottom  by  valiantly  showing  his  heels  to  the 
meddler.  But,  nothing  daunted,  he  had  beaten  about 
the  sea,  visiting  favouring  ports  at  need,  resolved  not 
to  return  to  New  York  until  he  could  drive  a  prize 
before  him,  and,  though  he  was  three  months  in  the 
doing,  and  was  quite  despaired  of  by  his  father,  he 
came  in  at  last  master  of  a  veritable  galleon,  and  cast 
anchor  with  the  proud  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
the  capture  would  at  least  cover  the  expense  of  the 
enterprise. 

At  the  end  of  a  long  interview  with  his  father,  in 
which  he  learned  what  small  reason  that  gentleman 
had  to  be  content  with  the  world  in  its  methods  of 
dealing  with  him,  Wallace  suddenly  demanded  to 
know  if  Mr.  Jacob  Wilbruch  were  away  at  his 
college. 

Mr.  Waring  smiled  grimly.  He  was  not  flattered 
by  Wallace's  supposition  that  he  was  informed  of 
Mr.  Wilbruch' s  plans  and  conduct.  But,  as  Jacob 
was  part  and  parcel  of  the  crown  of  thorns  he  was 
now  wearing  with  a  stoical  kind  of  pleasure  in  the 
pain  it  gave  him,  he  made  the  best  of  the  prick  by 
thrusting  it  deeper  into  his  flesh. 

"  If  Mr,  Wilbruch  had  an  intention  of  going  to 
college,  he  seems  to  have  abandoned  it.  At  any 
rate,  he  has  gone  into  business  with  Vanbergen,  for 
his  cursed  name  is  over  the  door.  I  hear  he  is  to 
marry  the  Vanbergen  girl." 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  257 

"The  Vanbergen  girl!"  Wallace  repeated,  disap- 
provingly. 

"  Miss  Vanbergen,  if  you  prefer." 

"  I  do  very  much  prefer,  sir." 

"  I  hoped  the  sea  would  have  blown  the  nonsense 
out  of  you." 

"  If  the  sea  is  a  corrective,  sir,  I  fear  it  was  the 
wrong  one  of  us  that  made  the  cruise." 

"You  have  parted  with  none  of  your  insolence." 

"  No,  sir,  since  'tis  that  which  keeps  us  on  an 
equal  footing." 

"You  are  a  proof  of  the  law  of  heredity,"  Mr. 
Waring  said,  throwing  one  leg  over  the  other,  and 
looking  at  Wallace  with  a  half  approving  smile. 
"  You  have  all  the  opinionated  obstinacy  and  unrea- 
sonable arrogance  of  your  grandfather." 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  go  so  far  back  for  my  pattern, 
sir  ? " 

"  Faith,  no,  Wallace,  for  I  see  some  of  my  virtues 
in  you ;  but  you  lack  the  chief  one  of  common  sense. 
If  you  could  clear  the  romantic  rubbish  from  your 
head  and  give  reason  more  room  to  expand  in  —  " 

"  You  think,  sir,  I  might  arrive  at  the  distinction 
of  being  the  husband  of  my  wife." 

"  I  suppose  you  intend  that  for  a  cynicism,  my 
dear  Wallace ;  but  you  would  not  by  any  means  be 
the  first  man  to  owe  his  distinction  to  the  right 
choice  of  a  wife,  as  you  may  find  in  the  histories  of 


258  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

our  most  famous  men,  if  you  will  take  the  trouble 
to  examine  them.  But  I  see  your  impatience  to  be 
gone  about  some  folly  of  the  town  —  " 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  have  never  found  me  impatient 
to  quit  your  company." 

"  Faith,  Wallace,  I  have  not.  I  think  we  like 
each  other  with  tolerable  agreement ;  but  you  are 
yet  at  the  age  to  '  fillip  the  world  aside  and  cock 
your  hat  at  fate,'  and  'tis  proper  you  have  an  eager- 
ness to  break  a  bottle  at  the  inn  with  your  fellows. 
Youth  must  not  waste  its  time  with  old  men." 

There  was  a  strain  of  something  in  the  tone  very 
unlike  Mr.  Waring's  habitual  mocking  evenness  of 
speech,  which  caught  Wallace's  attention. 

"  I  shall  be  quite  as  pleased  to  break  a  bottle  here 
with  you,"  he  began,  smilingly. 

"No,  Wallace,  no,"  Mr.  Waring  interrupted,  "I 
have  cultivated  a  taste  for  my  own  company  at  this 
time  of  day.  Come  back  in  the  evening,  if  you  will. 
Humph,  —  will  you  sleep  in  your  old  room,  or  do  you 
think  to  stop  at  the  inn  ? " 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  I  shall  stop  at  the  inn  for  to- 
night." 

There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  movement  at 
the  corners  of  Mr.  Waring's  mouth,  and  an  equally 
slight  quiver  of  the  eyelids  as  the  only  signs  of  the 
disappointment  this  answer  gave  him. 

"  You  will  need  some  money,  then,  for  the  risks 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  2$<) 

of  the  play,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  reaching  to  take 
up  a  pen  from  the  writing-table. 

"  Spare  yourself  the  trouble,"  Wallace  said,  putting 
his  hand  restrainingly  on  his  father's  arm ;  "  I  am 
done  with  cards  until  I  can  afford  to  risk  the  money 
of  my  own  getting." 

Again  the  faint  change  passed  over  Mr.  Waring's 
face,  but  he  said,  laconically  : 

"  As  you  please.  Excessive  virtue  is  a  vice.  Be- 
ware of  becoming  a  milksop.  A  gentleman  owes 
something  to  his  station.  I  do  not  encourage  you 
to  game.  But  I  would  choose  to  see  you  as  liberal 
as  your  fellows." 

"The  last  time  I  incurred  a  debt  at  the  table  you 
refused  —  " 

"  Tut,  tut !  That's  past.  You  found  me  in  a 
temper  and  played  the  swaggerer  with  me.  Don't 
repeat  the  offence.  I  have  no  stomach  for  re- 
proaches." 

"I  had  no  thought  to  reproach  you,  sir.  I  was 
about  to  say  that  because  of  your  refusal  I  was 
driven  to  commit  a  crime,  in  order  to  have  the  right 
to  defend  my  honour." 

"  A  crime,  Wallace  !  "  Mr.  Waring  demanded,  in 
consternation.  "  What  crime  ? " 

"  The  crime  of  setting  your  name  to  a  cheque,  sir." 

"  You  did  that ! " 

"  No  ;  I  didn't  get  so  far.     But  I  had  the  will  and 


26O  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

the  intention  to  do  it.  It  was  the  merest  chance  — 
I  thought  it  was  a  godsend  at  the  time  —  that 
prevented  me." 

Mr.  Waring  had  sunk  back  into  his  chair,  pale 
and  tremulous,  clutching  hold  upon  the  arms,  seem- 
ingly to  keep  himself  from  slipping  to  the  floor.  He 
stared  up  at  his  son  as  if  looking  through  and 
beyond  him,  his  face  colourless  and  set. 

"  A  forger  ! "  he  said,  in  almost  inaudible  tone. 

"  In  purpose,  not  in  fact,"  Wallace  responded,  and 
came  nearer,  feeling  some  alarm  on  his  father's 
account. 

But  Mr.  Waring  repelled  him  with  a  quick  motion 
of  the  hand,  and  straightened  up  in  his  chair.  The 
pallor  of  fear  had  given  place  to  the  white  gleam  of 
anger  in  his  face,  and  he  shook  his  extended  hand, 
as  if  driving  home  the  words  that  came  passionately 
from  his  lips,  but  not  loudly,  for  he  spoke  as  one 
having  a  fear  to  be  heard. 

"  You  have  set  yourself  in  opposition  to  my  wishes, 
you  have  mocked  at  my  ambitions,  you  have  allied 
yourself  with  my  enemies,  and  now  you  crown  all  by 
confessing  yourself  a  criminal,  —  a  criminal  against 
me,  against  my  honour,  against  my  fortune,  for  I 
know  not  how  many  of  your  forged  orders  my 
bankers  have  paid  —  " 

«  Father  ! " 

It  was  a  cry  of  anguish,  the  soul's  recoil  under  the 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  26 1 

shock  of  a  sudden  and  overwhelming  injury ;  and 
Wallace  stood  quivering  like  one  who  feels,  for  the 
first  time,  and  unjustly,  the  gaoler's  lash  on  his  bare 
back.  But  Mr.  Waring  seemed  not  to  have  heard. 
He  went  on,  his  voice  raised  to  a  higher  pitch  by 
his  increased  excitement,  his  body  thrust  a  little 
more  forward,  his  .outstretched  finger  still  striking 
in  emphasis  of  his  words. 

"  You  have  brought  me  shame  and  reproach  as 
the  reward  of  my  days,  and  ruin  and  dishonour 
may  be  waiting  to  beat  me  down,  but  you  shall 
not  stand  by  to  mock  at  me  !  Out  of  my  presence  ! 
Out  of  my  sight !  Quit  my  home !  I  would  to  God 
the  sea  had  kept  you  from  entering  it  again  !  Go, 
go  !  and  give  me  leave  to  forget  that  I  have  ever  had 
a  son." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  menacingly,  his  tall,  slight 
figure  making  a  pitiful  contrast  to  the  finely  athletic 
proportions  of  his  son.  But  Wallace,  dumfounded, 
unable  to  comprehend  this  frenzied  passion,  and  fear- 
ing what  might  be  the  effect  upon  his  father,  were 
the  scene  prolonged,  bowed  his  head  and  went  out  of 
the  room. 

The  click  of  the  latch  as  the  door  closed  seemed 
to  bring  Mr.  Waring  to  a  sudden  realisation  of  what 
he  had  been  saying.  He  called  out : 

"  Wallace  !  Wallace  !  Come  back  !  I  was  wrong  ! 
It  is  I  who  am  to  blame  !  Wallace,  my  son  !  " 


262  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

He  had  made  blind  haste  to  follow  to  the  door  as 
he  spoke,  and,  in  his  eagerness,  stumbled  over  a 
footstool  in  the  way  and  fell  heavily  to  the  floor,  his 
head  striking  against  the  wall  with  such  violence  that 
he  lay  silent  and  motionless,  and  was  so  lying  when 
his  black  valet  came  into  the  room  half  an  hour 
later. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

LAMBERT'S  garden,  near  the  upper  end  of  the 
promenade,  opposite  the  well  in  the  roadway,  was 
a  pleasant  and  convenient  place  to  break  a  tedious 
hour.  A  low  wall  of  gray  stone  shut  in  the  garden 
on  three  sides,  giving  it  a  comfortable  air  of  seclusion, 
and  scattered  here  and  there  under  the  trees  at  the 
back  and  to  the  left  of  the  peaked-roof  house  were 
tables  for  the  accommodation  of  couples  or  parties. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  house  was  a  turfed  alley, 
shaded  by  a  long  trellis  overrun  with  vines,  where 
the  game  of  ninepins  could  be  played  by  whomsoever 
came  first  to  the  bowls,  the  general  understanding, 
however,  being  that  folk  of  the  meaner  order  must 
give  place  to  the  "  quality."  Mr.  Lambert  knew  the 
art  of  extracting  from  the  juice  of  cherries  a  drink 
at  once  refreshing  and  energising,  which  made  no 
small  addition  to  the  attractiveness  of  his  garden ; 
and  a  bottle  of  his  canary  left  to  hang  for  an  hour  in 
the  depth  of  the  well  had  a  masterful  way  of  laying 
hold  upon  thirst.  Then,  to  top  all,  Mrs.  Lambert 
was  famous  for  her  tea  and  crumpets,  served  fresh 
every  afternoon,  and  Claudine,  the  more  than  comely 
263 


264  'IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

daughter  of  twenty,  had  a  discreet  way  of  winking  a 
black  eye  as  ever  won  the  confidence  of  a  gentleman. 
What  with  the  tea  and  crumpets  for  the  ladies,  and 
Claudine's  intelligence  with  the  gentlemen,  Mr. 
Lambert  found  thrift  in  the  fashionable  world.  It 
would  not  be  to  the  purpose  to  inquire  whether 
Claudine  was  the  model  of  lively  probity  and  cheer- 
ful virtue  the  ladies  believed  her  to  be,  nor  whether 
the  smile  she  dropped  into  one  gentleman's  tea  was 
more  particular  in  its  allowance  than  that  with  which 
she  sweetened  another's,  were  her  relation  to  this 
history  only  that  of  a  chance  Hebe  of  the  teapot, 
whose  morals  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  strength  of 
her  mother's  brew.  Perhaps  a  less  conscientious 
chronicler  would  hardly  think  it  worth  his  while  to 
spend  time  in  recounting  a  trifling  circumstance  that 
had  no  decisive  outcome  ;  but  it  is  sometimes  as 
much  a  part  of  interest  to  know  of  the  inconveniences 
a  hero  escapes,  as  to  be  informed  what  adventures 
befall  him.  It  is  with  respect  to  that  view  only  that 
a  discovery  which  the  vivacious  Claudine  made  con- 
cerning herself  is  given  an  incidental  place  in  the 
record  of  events. 

Claudine,  indolently  posed  in  the  corner  of  a  high- 
backed  bench,  was  watching  with  indifferent  interest 
a  quartette  of  honest  fellows  dividing  their  attentions 
between  the  tankards  of  beer  and  the  knocking  over 
of  the  ninepins.  Suddenly,  without  any  apparent 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  26$ 

reason,  she  gave  a  convulsive  start  and  sat  stiffly 
erect,  her  rosy  cheeks  become  ashen  and  her  black 
eyes  enlarged  by  fear.  She  sat  for  a  time  breathing 
pantingly  through  her  open  mouth,  her  hands  pull- 
ing at  the  top  of  her  bodice  as  if  she  felt  its  pressure 
suffocating ;  then,  with  a  moan  of  despair,  she  hurried 
away  like  one  afraid  to  be  seen,  and,  running  to  her 
room,  flung  herself  on  her  bed  in  a  paroxysm  of 
weeping. 

"Wat  troubles  Mistress  Claudine?"  asked  one  of 
the  players  of  another. 

"There's  no  telling  what's  the  trouble  with  a 
woman.  They're  skittish  critters,"  replied  the  man 
in  a  Dutch  cap,  and  the  four  good  men  went  sensibly 
on  with  the  play  that  concerned  them,  merely  nodding 
their  acknowledgment  of  the  fact  that  Lieutenant 
Willett,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Ashton  and  Mr.  Brad- 
ford, had  just  strolled  into  the  garden,  having  found 
the  Parade  as  yet  unattractive. 

"Ah!  these  are  the  fellows,"  said  Bradford,  "who 
played  a  match  for  our  amusement  last  week.  How 
say  you,  lieutenant,  do  you  feel  inclined  to  lay  a 
guinea  or  so  on  either  side?  I'll  lay  against  your 
choice." 

"  You  are  generous,"  laughed  Ashton. 

"Or  is  your  offer  a  slight  on  my  judgment?"  the 
lieutenant  asked,  good-humouredly. 

"  I  am  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  question  the 


266  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

judgment  of  Lieutenant  Willett  —  or  any  other 
master  of  pistol  and  sword.  I  am  but  a  hedge- 
sparrow  in  the  matter  of  opinions.  I  avoid  any 
choice  of  a  quarrel  where  the  advantages  are  against 
me." 

"Tis  not  your  reputation." 

"  Reputation,"  said  Bradford,  "  is  a  braggart. 
Here  is  Ashton,  now,  who  passes  for  a  wit,  but  I 
swear  I  never  heard  him  pair  two  words  of  mean- 
ing." 

Ashton  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  expostulat- 
ingly. 

"It  requires  some  wit  to  understand  a  wit,  my 
dear  Allen.  A  pack  of  cards  and  a  book  of  com- 
pliments being  your  only  library,  how  the  deuce 
should  you  know  a  wit,  though  you  break  your  head 
against  him  ?" 

"  Easily,  my  dear  Ashton,"  Bradford  laughed, 
giving  his  sword  a  clip,  "  by  his  resistance  to  a  yard 
of  good  steel.  But  what  do  you  say  to  a  wager, 
lieutenant  ? " 

"I'm  more  for  something  to  drink.  Where  the 
devil  is  everybody  ?  "  beating  a  summons  on  a  bench, 
and  calling  "Lambert,  Lambert!  You  are  missing 
trade,  man  ! "  he  added,  as  Lambert  appeared  in  the 
door,  hastening  forward  to  receive  the  orders.  "  Some 
bottles  of  wine." 

"And    have  them   cool,   Lambert,"  Ashton    cau- 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  267 

tioned  him.  "  And  invite  your  daughter  to  come  with 
it.  She  is  its  best  flavourer." 

"I  shall  charge  her,  gentlemen,"  Lambert  prom- 
ised, ending  a  series  of  obsequious  bows  to  retire 
into  the  house. 

"  Well,  Bradford,  I'll  chance  a  guinea  on  the  side 
of  the  cap." 

"  Done.  I  should  have  chosen  to  be  against  the 
cap.  I  do  not  like  the  hang  of  it,  and  'tis  none  of 
the  cleanest.  Besides,  my  grandfather  wore  a  night- 
cap of  that  fashion,  and  I  have  yet  the  memory  of 
a  birching  I  got  through  making  a  fish-net  of  it." 

"  Does  your  chief  regard  to  a  Dutch  cap  grow  out 
of  that  memory  ? "  Ashton  asked,  with  an  insinuating 
smile. 

"Is  that  a  witticism,  Ashton  ?  For  hang  me  if 
I  understand  it !  " 

"  No,  'tis  a  commonplace,  since  I'm  thinking  of 
Miss  Vanbergen  and  the  cap  you  have  set  for  her, 
which,  I  take  it,  is  a  Dutch  cap." 

"  Gad,  Ashton,  there  is  malice  in  you." 

"  None  in  the  least,  unless  your  attentions  to  the 
lady  are  not  honest." 

Bradford's  manner  became  grave. 

"Let  us  have  no  jests  on  that  subject,  Ashton. 
My  attentions  to  Miss  Vanbergen  have  no  other 
meaning  than  that  I  am  Wallace  Waring's  friend, 
—  which  means  that  I  am  hers  as  well." 


268  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  What  the  deuce  has  Wallace  Waring  to  do  with 
the  matter  ?  "  demanded  Ashton.  "  Why  do  you 
couple  their  names  ?  The  town  has  it  that  Waring 
is  matched  against  the  lieutenant  here  which  of 
them  shall  come  surest  into  Miss  Boylston's  graces." 

Willett  had  caught  eagerly  at  Bradford's  uncon- 
scious betrayal  of  a  confidence  which  he  had  for- 
gotten for  the  moment  was  not  a  general  property. 

"  Have  Miss  Vanbergen  and  Waring  come  to  so 
much  of  an  understanding  ? "  he  asked.  "  Are  you 
playing  the  squire  in  his  behalf  ?  I'd  give  some- 
thing for  that  assurance." 

"Wallace  has  returned,"  Bradford  answered. 
"You'd  better  ask  of  him.  I  am  not  authorised  to 
say  he  is  not  in  your  way  to  Miss  Boylston." 

"  Ordinarily,"  said  the  lieutenant,  lounging  into  a 
chair  by  a  table,  "  I  think  the  better  of  a  man 
after  I  have  had  out  a  quarrel  with  him  ;  but,  for 
all  he  is  your  friend,  Bradford,  I  must  tell  you 
I'm  not  in  love  with  Waring,  and  'twill  not  mend 
matters  — 

"  If  he  has  a  mind  to  Miss  Boylston  ?  "  Bradford 
asked,  smilingly,  as  the  lieutenant  hesitated. 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  lieutenant,  with  emphasis. 

"  That  is  a  point  you  should  argue  with  the  lady, 
for  she  may  have  an  opinion  on  the  subject." 

"Thank  Heaven,  gentlemen,"  cried  Ashton,  "here 
is  wine  come  to  give  a  healthier  flow  to  your  sen- 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  269 

timents.  I  swear,  I  could  never  understand  how  it 
is  that  two  good  fellows,  gentlemen  of  acknowledged 
sense  and  spirit,  should  let  a  difference  over  a 
petticoat  mar  their  tempers.  Women  were  set  into 
the  world  for  man's  amusement,  for  his  cheerful 
pastime,  and  to  take  them  seriously  is  to  clap  a  cox- 
comb on  to  the  head  of  wisdom." 

Lambert  set  two  bottles  of  wine  on  the  table, 
and  presently  Claudine,  troubled  of  countenance  and 
humid  of  eye,  despite  a  certain  enforced  play  of  the 
lips,  brought  out  a  tray  with  the  glasses. 

The  gentlemen  said  flattering  things,  and  Claudine 
made  agreeable  replies,  her  French  readiness  being 
more  than  a  balance  to  her  heavy-heartedness.  But 
she  contrived,  in  leaning  to  put  down  the  tray,  to 
whisper  in  Lieutenant  Willett's  ear : 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

At  the  same  time,  the  laughter  and  bantering 
among  the  players  at  ninepins  announced  the  finish 
of  the  game,  and  Bradford  called  out : 

"  Which  side  has  won,  my  man  ?  For  there  is 
a  guinea  on  the  issue." 

"  Not  your  man,  neither,  Master  Bradford,"  re- 
sponded the  man  in  the  cap,  "for  'tis  our  side 
has  it." 

"  So  much  for  your  judgment,  Willett.  I  hope 
it  may  prove  as  sound  when  'tis  more  to  your  profit. 
Will  you  have  the  guinea,  or  shall  I  fling  it  to  them 


2/0  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

to  drink  your  health?"  Taking  the  permission  for 
granted,  he  tossed  the  piece  to  the  men,  who  received 
it  with  a  shout  of  good-nature.  "There,  my  fine 
fellows,  get  as  drunk  as  a  guinea  will  let  you." 

"  But  you  must  go  into  the  kitchen  for  your  drink- 
ing," said  Lambert  to  the  men,  speaking  with  a 
slight  French  accent.  "  I  see  the  gentlefolks  walk- 
ing this  way,  and  some  of  them  may  wish  to  play." 

"  Then  you  must  first  give  the  bowls  a  bath,  friend 
Lambert,"  Bradford  advised.  "  They  have  the  soil 
of  labour  on  them." 

"Yes,"  said  the  man  in  the  cap,  with  an  amiable 
leer,  "and  it's  tax  on  labour  that  puts  the  fine  coat 
on  your  back,  Mr.  Bradford.  That's  the  soil  of 
labour,  too." 

"Excellently  said,  my  democratic  friend,"  Brad- 
ford cried,  heartily  joining  in  the  laugh  of  the 
men  and  taking  out  a  coin  to  throw.  "  And  there's 
another  guinea  for  your  wit.  I'll  pay  you  as  well, 
Ashton,  when  you  grow  as  apt." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  ruin  a  friend,"  Ashton 
rejoined,  "for  I'm  not  sure  that  your  purse  will 
go  further  than  my  wit." 

"  Gad,  Willett,  that's  one  of  his  ill-tempered  drives 
at  my  having  borrowed  half  a  thousand,  in  a  pinch, 
and  which  he  had  the  impudence  to  win  before  it 
was  cold  in  my  pocket.  By  George !  has  Willett 
given  us  the  slip  ? " 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  2? I 

"  No ;  you  may  see  him  yonder,  advising  with 
Claudine  upon  the  complexion  best  suited  to  a 
panegyric." 

"  I  supposed  she  had  had  your  counsel." 

"Indeed,  no,  Allen.  I  never  go  beyond  an  ogle 
with  a  pert  virgin.  They  are  very  well  to  hand  about 
in  a  dance,  or  to  lend  variety  to  a  promenade ;  but 
when  I  venture  on  a  steeple-chase,  I  trust  to  some- 
thing better  seasoned  than  a  filly." 

At  that  moment,  Lieutenant  Willett,  looking 
rather  blankly  at  the  fringes  of  Claudine's  downcast 
eyes,  was  saying,  but  entirely  without  conviction  : 

"  But  it  is  quite  impossible,  Claudine.  You  have 
taken  a  scare  at  a  shadow." 

"  But  it  is  true." 

"  Well,  and  if  it  were,  why  do  you  come  to  me  ? " 

"  And  why  not  to  you  ? "  She  looked  up  with 
just  the  glint  of  a  defiance  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why  not  to  another  ?  "  he  asked,  with  mean- 
ing, and  then,  bending  a  little  more  toward  her, 
he  repeated,  with  a  different  inflection,  "Why  not 
to  another,  Claudine?  I'll  make  it  worth  your 
while." 

"  What  other  ?  "  She  asked  the  question  experi- 
mentally. She  had  a  curiosity  to  find  how  observing 
the  lieutenant  might  have  been. 

Willett  hesitated,  twisting  at  his  chin  as  if  to 
screw  out  of  it  a  governing  suggestion.  With  the 


2/2  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

toe  of  his  boot  he  traced  the  angles  of  two  letters  in 
the  path. 

"There,"  he  said,  directing  her  attention  to  the 
marks. 

"What  is  that?     <  W.  W.?'" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  they  stand  for  —  " 

"Wallace  Waring." 

Claudine  laughed,  and  quite  merrily,  notwithstand- 
ing she  had  been  debating  some  very  grave  questions 
with  herself  in  the  last  half-hour. 

"  Why,  I  hardly  know  him  !  He  has  not  spoken 
to  me  a  dozen  times.  It  would  be  ridiculous." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  would  be  very  sensible,  for 
you  will  be  ^"200  the  richer  for  a  statement  that 
will  .do  him  no  very  great  harm  and  will  do  me  a 
devilishly  pretty  service." 

"  How  ?  " 

"  That  I  must  beg  leave  to  keep  to  myself." 

"  Why  should  I  injure  a  gentleman  who  has  done 
nothing  to  offend  me  ?  " 

"  Because  you  will  rather  point  out  some  one  for 
whom  you  care  little  than  sacrifice  a  friend." 

"  I  think  not.  If  I  am  to  suffer  on  a  friend's 
account,  'tis  the  friend  rather  than  another  to  whom 
I  should  look  for  protection." 

"  You  shall  not  want  protection,  that  I  promise 
you.  Deuce  take  it,  Claudine,  if  you  will  be  sensible, 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  2?$ 

you  shall  live  as  much  the  lady  as  your  wish  will 
have  you.  Look  at  the  matter  fairly,  and  find  how 
much  you  may  benefit  by  obliging  me,  and  how  small 
gain  it  will  be  to  you  if  you  provoke  me.  The  charge 
would  put  me  to  so  much  inconvenience  that,  though 
I  swear  'twould  pain  me  to  deny  having  had  the 
favour  of  so  charming  a  creature,  I  should  have 
to  treat  it  as  a  slander  —  " 

"Oh,  I  know,"  she  interrupted,  "how  preciously 
the  law  and  society  take  care  of  a  gentleman  against 
such  as  me.  You  needn't  think  me  fool  enough  to 
look  to  the  law.  I'll  look  to  the  river  sooner.  But 
I  thought —  I  thought  you  would  befriend  me." 

"  Plague  take  it,  Claudine,  I  ask  but  the  privilege. 
Twas  the  thing  I  had  to  propose.  You  shall  go  from 
here  when  it  pleases  you  and  live  where  you  may 
choose,  with  an  allowance  to  content  you,  —  if,  on 
going,  you  will  leave  behind  for  your  father  some  ten 
lines  of  my  dictation." 

"  How  do  you  know  you  could  afford  what  I  might 
demand  ?  You  are  not  so  very  rich,  I  think."  Clau- 
dine was  coquette  above  all,  and  already  her  fears  and 
the  scruples  raised  by  them  were  vanishing  into  very 
thin  air. 

"  When  a  man  is  a  favourite  of  the  cards,  my  dear 
Claudine,"  he  said,  jestingly,  giving  her  chin  a  fillip 
with  his  forefinger,  "fortune  becomes  his  mistress. 
The  purses  of  my  friends  are  at  my  service.  But  if 


2/4  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

you  will  act  as  I  bid  you,  I  may  hope  to  secure  as 
gentlemanly  a  fortune  as  my  tastes  demand.  Come  ; 
say  it  is  agreed.  Put  your  eyes  into  your  tongue 
and  make  the  '  yes '  audible.  Egad  !  Claudine,  I  did 
not  have  so  much  difficulty  at  persuasion  on  an  occa- 
sion less  to  your  making  !  Eh,  Deenie  ?  " 

"  But  why  should  I  leave  a  letter  for  my  father  ? 
Do  you  think  he  would  post  it  in  the  coffee- 
house ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  can  trust  to  your  mother's  whisper- 
ing into  every  lady's  ear  enough  to  set  a  story 
moving  around  the  town." 

"  I  see  not  how  you  think  to  gain  in  the  matter. 
A  credit  for  gallantry  is  thought  to  improve  a  man 
in  the  women's  eyes." 

"  But  not  in  a  sweetheart's  eyes,  Claudine.  You 
women  want  every  man  inconstant  but  your  own. 
Let  the  story  get  currency,  and  trust  me  to  make 
good  use  of  it.  Faith,  I'll  not  wait  till  it  is  current ; 
'twere  a  pity  if  I  might  not  be  one  of  the  first  to 
debate  a  rumour  of  my  own  creating." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  begin  to  find  you  something 
of  a  knave  ? "  She  smiled  as  if  knavery  were  some- 
thing to  a  man's  embellishment. 

"  All  men  are  so,  my  beauty,  and  you  and  I  would 
find  the  world  devilishly  humdrum  were  they  not.  I 
can  imagine  nothing  so  depressing  as  a  paradise  of 
saints.  I  swear,  Claudine,  I  believe  that  bit  of  throat 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  2?$ 

peeping  through  this  fold  of  lace  has  just  the  circum- 
ference of  my  lips.     Humph  !  I  thought  so." 

"  I'm  being  called." 

"  The  world  is  beginning  to  arrive,  no  doubt." 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Miss  VANBERGEN  had  none  of  that  candour  which 
invites  the  world  to  look  in  upon  its  cabinet  of  woes 
and  griefs  and  disappointments.  She  was  rather  of 
a  nature  to  conceal  the  possession  of  such  a  treasury, 
and,  like  a  miser  with  his  gold,  only  visited  it  in 
secret.  And  as  the  miser  bemoans  his  poverty  in 
the  proportion  that  his  hoardings  increase,  so  Miss 
Vanbergen,  as  her  heart  got  heavier  with  anxiety 
over  Wallace's  absence  at  sea,  became  livelier  of  con- 
duct and  lighter  of  laughter  in  the  public  eye.  No 
one  danced  so  gaily  at  the  parties,  or  came  more 
regularly  to  air  her  finery  in  the  Parade,  or  more 
readily  lent  herself  to  the  frivolities  of  the  quickened 
autumnal  season.  Allen  Bradford,  who  most  fre- 
quently was  her  escort  and  guide  in  these  pleasant 
dissipations,  began  to  wonder  if  the  corsair  were  not 
as  much  out  of  her  heart  as  out  of  her  sight ;  and 
he  fell  to  building  vague,  almost  indefinable  hopes  on 
the  fact  that  she  so  invariably  gave  the  conversation 
a  flippant  turn  into  other  channels  whenever  he  spoke 
of  Wallace.  Not  that  Bradford  had  the  least  shadow 
of  disloyalty  to  his  absent  friend  to  trouble  his  mind  ; 
276 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  277 

but  he  was  not  so  quixotic  that  he  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  sacrifice  actualities  to  illusions.  And  how 
was  he  to  know  that  no  one  looked  so  often-  or  so 
longingly  toward  the  open  horizon  as  did  Miss  Van- 
bergen,  that  no  one  listened  so  attentively  to  the 
news  and  rumours  from  the  sea,  that  no  one  ran  so 
eagerly  to  the  docks  when  a  vessel  came  into  the 
bay  ?  What  should  he  or  any  one  know  of  the  hours 
passed  at  the  chamber  window  that  looked  out  to- 
ward the  sea,  and  of  the  tearful  yearnings  of  the  girl 
sitting  there,  praying  for  the  privilege  to  fling  her 
arms  about  the  neck  of  a  valiant  pirate  and  murmur 
a  thousand  pretty  pleas  for  forgiveness  in  his  ear? 
And  how  was  any  one  to  guess  that  Miss  Vanbergen 
had  thought  seriously  of  urging  her  father  to  send 
out  a  vessel  to  search  the  sea  and  its  worst  places 
for  this  long-tarrying  gentleman  who  might  have 
been  ill-starred  enough  to  suffer  wreck  on  the  rocks  of 
some  island  solitude  ?  Half  of  her  gaiety  was,  in  point 
of  fact,  nervous  disturbance,  and  her  laughter  was 
beginning  to  have  in  it  something  of  extravagance 
when  Hendrik  greeted  her  return  from  a  meditative 
ramble  up  the  west  shore  with  the  announcement 
that  Wallace's  ship  had  come  in,  bringing  a  prize 
with  it.  She  felt  a  sudden  tightening  of  her  body, 
as  if  it  had  been  crushed  in  upon  her  by  a  mighty 
force,  and  the  earth  seemed  to  have  stopped  going 
around  ;  but  Hendrik  was  tugging  at  her  arm,  urging 


2  78  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

her  to  come  with  him  to  the  docks  where  all  the 
town  was  gathered.  Being  a  lusty  chap  and  impa- 
tient with  excitement,  Hendrik  gave  her  enough 
physical  pain  to  keep  her  conscious  of  herself  and 
prevent  that  going  down  in  a  heap  which  the  loveli- 
est of  women  have  not  yet  learned  to  manage  with 
entirely  commendable  grace. 

Now  that  Wallace  had  come  in  proof  of  the  folly 
of  her  fears  and  anxieties  on  his  account,  the  eager- 
ness to  confess  herself  in  his  arms  seemed  to  have 
gone  with  those  fears.  Moreover,  with  that  perver- 
sity which  is  so  peculiarly  a  feminine  quality,  she 
passed  from  self-upbraidings  to  a  criticism  of  Wal- 
lace for  having  sailed  away  without  so  much  as  a 
note  of  farewell,  and  without  ever  having  made  the 
smallest  effort  to  reestablish  himself  in  her  favour. 
Decidedly  the  fault  lay  with  him,  and  she  would 
wait  with  becoming  dignity  for  his  recognition  of  the 
fact,  feeling  sure  that  in  their  first  meeting  that 
triumph  would  come  to  her. 

Mastering  her  emotions  and  inclinations  by  a  vig- 
orous exercise  of  will,  she  sent  Hendrik  away,  plead- 
ing that  she  was  too  weary  for  a  walk  to  the  docks, 
and  went  to  her  room,  resolved  that  if  any  one  failed 
of  loveliness  and  charm  in  the  Parade  that  afternoon 
it  should  not  be  she. 

But  Wallace  had  come  from  the  interview  with 
his  father  too  much  stunned  by  the  unexpected  vio- 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  279 

lence  of  the  denunciations  hurled  at  him  to  have  any 
heart  for  a  tol-de-rol-lol  gathering  for  compliments 
and  levities.  He  was  much  more  in  the  mood  for 
hitting  out  impartially,  letting  who  would  feel  what 
the  sea's  ozone  had  done  for  his  muscles  in  the  past 
dozen  weeks.  He  had  been  humiliated  by  one  upon 
whom  he  could  not  avenge  himself  in  any  pride- 
appeasing  way.  One  must  suffer  much  from  one's 
father,  even  a  certain  amount  of  dishonouring  out- 
rage. But  the  shame  he  had  felt  under  the  unsparing 
words  gave  place  to  a  bitter  rebelliousness  against 
the  unjust  excess  of  the  invective.  Though  he  had 
sufficiently  realised  the  moral  default  of  his  yielding 
to  a  temptation  to  sign  his  father's  name  to  a  scrap 
of  paper,  he  was,  at  the  same  time,  conscious  of  his 
entire  freedom  from  any  worse  motive  than  a  desire 
to  save  himself  from  a  disgrace  that  seemed  much 
more  hideous  than  the  offer  to  counteract  his  father's 
unreasonableness.  He  believed  that  intention  was 
everything,  and  had  imagined  that  his  father  would 
feel  rebuked  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had  forced 
him  to  this  desperate  act  of  self-defence.  When, 
therefore,  he  reflected  upon  the  scene  from  which  he 
had  just  come,  anger  got  the  better  of  every  other 
emotion,  and  he  found  excellent  reason  to  reproach 
his  father  for  having  turned  upon  him  in  this  extraordi- 
nary manner,  after  having  taught  him  all  his  life  that 
the  money  in  bank  was  the  same  as  his  own.  At 


28O  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

the  same  time  he  felt  as  humiliated  as  if  the  words 
spoken  with  such  vehemence  in  the  library  had 
slipped  maliciously  through  the  open  window  and 
gone  hurrying  about  the  town  to  beat  in  the  ears  of 
every  mischievous  gossip,  and  he  had  no  present 
inclination  to  meet  with  any  one  who  could  question 
his  temper. 

And  Luya,  peeping  through  the  curtains  of  her 
window,  saw  him  pass  the  house  without  so  much  as 
a  glance  in  its  direction,  and  had  an  intuitive  sense 
of  a  wasted  hour  at  the  toilet. 

Wallace  went  directly  to  Mr.  Harmsen's  office  and 
promptly  tendered  his  resignation  of  the  captaincy  of 
the  privateer. 

"You  fint  t'e  work  too  hart,  he?"  Mr.  Harmsen 
asked,  in  surprise,  and  inclined  to  argue  the  matter. 

"  No,  Mr.  Harmsen,  'tis  the  pleasantest  employ- 
ment I  could  ask  for  myself,  and  if  you  know  another 
berth  of  the  kind  that  wants  an  occupant  I  should 
be  glad  of  your  recommendation." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harmsen,  wisely,  tak- 
ing the  heavy-rimmed  spectacles  from  his  eyes,  the 
better  to  look  at  Wallace.  "  You  vant  more  pay ! 
Goot  cracious  !  Mr.  Waring,  you  haf  two  times  petter 
pay  as  any  o'ter  captain  in  New  York !  " 

"  Then  I  dare  say  you  will  have  small  difficulty  in 
finding  me  an  exchange." 

"  Ja,  t'at  may  be.     Your  fat'er  has  said  so  ? " 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK,  28 1 

'"  My  father  is  not  concerned  in  the  matter." 

"  Got  in  hemel !  you  say  t'at !  Your  fat'er  is  not 
concernt !  Haf  so  much  gootness,  t'en,  to  tell  me 
whose  fat'er  is  concernt  ?  No,  no,  Mr.  Varing,  you 
can't  make  afdanking,  t'at  is  resignations,  unless  your 
fat'er  says  so." 

"  As  you  please,  Mr.  Harmsen.  But  if  you  let  the 
ship  wait  for  my  orders  her  guns  will  go  into  old  iron 
and  her  hulk  into  firewood  for  want  of  other  usage." 

"But,  Mr.  Varing,"  Mr.  Harmsen  expostulated, 
"  it  is  your  fat'er's  boat !  " 

"  Precisely  the  reason  why  I  can  no  longer  com- 
mand it.  Good  day,"  going  out  of  the  door  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Tis  tesertions,  Mr.  Varing ! "  Mr.  Harmsen 
called  after  him,  anxiously.  "  I  vant  to  sent  t'at 
poat  out  right  avay  again." 

"You  have  my  leave,  Mr.  Harmsen,  and  good 
adventure  attend  her,"  Wallace  called  back,  and 
turned  the  corner,  going  in  the  direction  of  the 
inn. 

As  he  was  nearing  the  inn,  a  child's  voice  cried 
out  behind  him : 

"  Wait,  Mr.  Wallace !     Wait !  " 

He  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  saw  Hendrik 
running  to  overtake  him. 

"What  is  it,  Hendrik?"  he  asked,  as  the  boy 
came  up. 


282  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  I  want  to  shake  hands  with  you  and  say  how 
d'ye  do." 

"And  how  are  you,  my  lad?"  Wallace  asked, 
cheerily,  taking  the  boy's  hand,  and  finding  a  pleas- 
ure in  looking  into  the  smiling  face  so  much  in  the 
likeness  of  another. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Wallace.  You 
know  they  had  begun  to  say  we  were  not  going  to 
see  you  any  more." 

"  Who  said  that,  Hendrik  ? " 

"  Oh,  everybody.     You  were  away  so  long." 

"Well,  it  would  not  have  mattered  so  much  if 
I  hadn't  come  back,  eh,  Hendrik  ?  No  one  would 
have  missed  me  long,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  should  have  missed  you,  any  way,  Mr. 
Wallace." 

"That  would  have  been  very  good  of  you, 
Hendrik." 

"  And  I'm  sure  we  all  would  have  missed  you, 
too." 

"  And  what  makes  you  think  that,  Hendrik  ? " 

"  I  don't  krjow.     I  think  everybody  likes  you." 

"  Have  you  heard  any  one  say  as  much  ? " 

"  I  haven't  heard  'em  say  it.  But  don't  you  think 
they  do  ? " 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  Hendrik,  no  doubt  of  it.  And 
have  you  been  hearty  and  happy  since  I  saw  you 
last  ? " 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  283 

"Oh,  I  should  think  so!  There  is  more  fun  at 
our  house  than  there  used  to  be.  Luya  has  got  to 
be  a  regular  young  lady  now,  and  has  people  come 
to  parties,  and  it's  ever  so  much  more  fun.  We  had 
a  dance  in  the  big  parlour,  with  men  to  play  the  fid- 
dles, and  you  should  have  seen  it !  There  never 
could  have  been  anything  finer.  They  let  me  stay 
up  that  night  as  long  as  I  wanted  to,  so  I  didn't  go 
to  bed  until  the  last  person  had  gone  away." 

"That  was  Mr.  Wilbruch,  I  suppose?" 

"  I  don't  remember  now,  but  I  suppose  it  was." 

"  Mr.  Wilbur ch  is  in  business  with  your  father 
now,  I  hear." 

"  Yes ;  that  was  Luya's  doing.  Jacob  was  going 
away  to  school.  Don't  you  think  it  funny  for  a  big 
man  like  Jacob  to  want  to  go  to  school  ?  Luya  must 
have  thought  that;  anyway,  I  heard  her  talking  to 
Jacob  about  it  one  time,  and  she  told  him  there  were 
too  many  men  who  had  just  been  spoiled  for  anything 
by  going  to  school  too  much,  and  she  thought  he'd 
better  stay  at  home,  because  nobody  would  think  any 
the  more  of  him  for  having  eaten  a  lot  of  books,  — 
that's  what  Luya  said,  but  of  course  Jacob  wasn't 
going  to  eat  any  books.  You  know  Luya  says  foolish 
things  just  for  fun." 

"  And  I  hear  that  Mr.  Wilbruch  is  to  be  a  member 
of  the  family." 

"  Oh,  Jacob  is  a  member  of  the  family.     He  has 


284  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

always  been.  Don't  you  know  that  my  papa  was 
Jacob's  papa  when  Jacob  was  a  little  boy,  before  I 
was  born  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  So  your  sister  is  very  happy 
in  these  days  ? " 

"Ever  so  happy.  But  don't  you  think  girls  are 
queer  ?  They  cry  when  they  are  happy.  I'm  just 
the  other  way,  aren't  you  ?  I  cry  when  I  am  -miser- 
able. This  morning  when  I  told  Luya  that  you  had 
come  back,  and  wanted  her  to  go  to  the  docks  with  me, 
she  wouldn't,  and  told  me  to  go  without  her.  I  went 
up-stairs  to  get  my  ball  and  bat  so  I  could  play  with 
the  boys,  since  Luya  wouldn't  come  along.  And 
while  I  was  looking  for  them,  Luya  came  into  her 
room,  and  didn't  notice  that  my  door  was  open,  I 
suppose;  and  pretty  soon  I  heard  — " 

"  But  you  mustn't  tell  me  anything  your  sister 
might  not  care  to  have  me  know,  Hendrik." 

"  Oh,  Luya  doesn't  care  who  knows  she's  happy. 
I  wouldn't  tell  you  if  she  wasn't.  Well,  I  heard  Luya 
crying,  that's  what  I  heard.  Not  crying  out  loud  like 
I  cry,  but  you  know  the  way  girls  cry.  I  thought 
she  was  sorry  for  something  and  that  made  me  sorry, 
too,  so  I  just  tiptoed  in,  went  to  her  to  make  her  feel 
better,  and  put  my  arms  around  her  neck  and  com- 
menced to  cry  with  her,  asking  her  what  the  matter 
was.  And  then,  do  you  know,  she  patted  my  cheek 
and  laughed  at  me,  and  called  me  a  silly  boy,  and 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  285 

said  she  was  only  crying  because  she  was  so  happy. 
And  I  asked  her  what  made  her  so  happy  that 
she  had  to  cry,  and  I  bet  you  can't  think  what  it 
was  !  " 

"  No,  I  can't  think  what  it  could  have  been,  Hen- 
drik  ;  you'll  have  to  tell  me." 

"  She  said  it  was  because  the  sea  gives  back  moje 
than  it  keeps !  Wasn't  that  a  funny  thing  to  cry 
about  ? " 

"Very,"  Wallace  assented,  with  a  smile,  but  feel- 
ing a  sudden  bound  of  the  pulse.  "  Was  that  all  she 
said  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  she  made  me  go  away  because  she  wanted 
to  dress." 

"Do  you  ever,"  Wallace  began,  in  a  curiously 
embarrassed  way,  fearing  to  betray  the  extent  of  his 
interest,  and  yet  counting  on  the  ingenuousness  of 
Hendrik,  "  do  you  ever  hear  your  sister  speak  about 
—  about  her  friends  ?  " 

"Of  course.  She  is  talking  about  somebody  all 
the  time." 

"  Of  course.     Mr.  Wilbruch,  for  example." 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  have  to  talk  about  Jacob.  She 
just  talks  to  him.  He's  there  so  much,  you  know. 
And  so  is  Mr.  Bradford.  He  comes  almost  every 
day.  He's  very  nice.  I  don't  like  Mr.  Ashton, 
though.  He  called  me  an  urchin." 

"  That  was  most  ill-mannered  of  him.     And  what 


286  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

does  your  sister  say  of  the  friends  she  does  not  see 
so  often  ? " 

"  Oh,  she  says  she  would  like  to  see  them.  But  I 
don't  believe  Luya  has  got  any  friends  like  that 
except  our  folks  in  Albany.  She  would  like  to  see 
them  again." 

."And  you  have  never  heard  her  speak  of  me?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  lot." 

"  What  were  some  of  the  things  she  said  ? " 

"I  don't  exactly  know,"  Hendrik  said,  having  a 
strong  wish  to  be  obliging  and  polite,  yet  much  dis- 
turbed by  his  memory's  refusal  to  serve  him  with  any 
reliable  data ;  "  but  I  can  think  them  up.  I  remem- 
ber things  best  when  I'm  in  bed,  don't  you?  I'll 
know  heaps  to  tell  you  in  the  morning." 

"  Never  mind,  Hendrik ;  put  yourself  to  no  incon- 
venience of  thinking,  for  I  dare  say  I  may  think  them 
out  as  well  for  myself.  We  have  had  a  prime  gossip, 
have  we  not  ?  And  I've  walked  with  you  so  far  be- 
yond the  inn  that  I  shall  have  a  day's  journey  back. 
But  you  have  put  me  into  a  pleasant  humour,  Hen- 
drik, and  I'm  obliged  to  you.  My  compliments  to 
your  family." 

"  Won't  you  walk  on  to  see  them  ?  It  is  such  a 
little  way  farther." 

"  You  see,  Hendrik,  that  I  am  not  dressed  for  com- 
pany. I  shall  wait  till  my  appearance  is  better  calcu- 
lated to  please." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  28? 

"And  if  you  will  see  Luya  at  her  best,"  cried 
Hendrik,  lighting  up  in  a  sudden  enthusiasm,  "you'll 
need  to  wait  till  the  ball.  I  warrant  there  will 
be  none  to  stand  beside  her.  She  had  on  the 
new  gown  yesterday  for  trial,  and  I  saw  her  in  it. 
You  should  have  seen  her !  She  was  just  like 
one  of  the  fairies  out  of  the  coloured  book  Jacob 
brought  me  from  Boston.  I  loved  her  more  than 
ever." 

"  So  there  is  a  ball  preparing  ? " 

"  Haven't  you  heard  ?  It  is  to  be  a  grand  affair. 
I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  heard  at  the 
inn,  for  'tis  to  be  there  next  Thursday  night,  —  just 
a  week  from  yesterday." 

"  And  your  sister  is  going  with  —  Mr.  Wilbruch  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  !  with  Mr.  Bradford." 

Wallace  enjoyed  a  sense  of  relief,  until,  recollecting 
that  Jacob  was  not  a  dancing  man,  he  admitted 
that  Bradford's  going  to  a  dance  with  Luya  was 
no  evidence  against  the  rumour  that  Wilbruch 
was  "to  marry  the  Vanbergen  girl."  He  shook 
hands  with  Hendrik,  and  turned  to  retrace  his 
steps,  Hendrik  going  on  toward  the  Parade.  But, 
in  a  minute  or  two,  Hendrik  came  running  after 
him. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wallace !  I'd  like  to  know  if  you  are  to 
go  to  the  ball." 

"  I  don't  know,  Hendrik.     Why  ? " 


288  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"Because  I  want  you  to  see  Luya.  And"  —  as 
if  imparting  a  profound  secret  —  "  I'm  going  to  try 
to  peek  in  !  " 

"  Well,  Hendrik,  I  dare  say  I  shall  manage  to  '  peek 
in '  too." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SEVERAL  days  having  passed  without  any  sign  of 
eagerness  on  the  part  of  Wallace  to  renew  their 
friendship,  Luya  began  to  have  some  uneasiness  as 
to  the  wisdom  of  her  policy,  which  she  confessed 
was  an  ungenerous  one.  She  wished  that  she  had 
obeyed  her  impulses  and  made  prompt  overtures  to 
a  reconciliation,  and  blamed  her  vanity  for  having 
led  her  to  believe  that  Wallace  was  so  much  in  sub- 
jection to  her  that  he  could  have  no  choice  but  to 
fling  away  pride  and  come  to  beg  for  pardon  where 
it  was  his  privilege  to  bestow  forgiveness.  He 
seemed  to  be  so  far  from  such  a  spirit  of  self-abnega- 
tion that,  so  little  could  she  find  to  the  contrary,  he 
gave  every  evidence  of  a  purpose  to  ignore  her. 
Indeed,  it  was  not  so  favourable  as  that,  she  argued, 
because,  to  ignore,  one  requires  that  there  be  a  pur- 
pose which  must  have  some  thought  of  the  person, 
and  Luya  could  only  think  that  Wallace  had  become 
indifferent  to  her. 

Such  reports  of  him  as  came  to  her  ears,  filtered 
through  the  conversations  with  Hendrik  and  Jacob 
and  Mr.  Vanbergen  and  Bradford,  did  not  at  all  give 
289 


2QO  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

her  the  idea  of  a  melancholy  young  gentleman  pining 
to  death  with  an  affection  of  the  heart.  He  was 
more  than  ever  gay,  it  seemed,  having  added  to  his 
natural  liveliness  of  spirit  something  of  a  sea-dog 
joviality  that  showed  itself  in  a  readiness  to  test  any 
worthy  competitor's  endurance  at  the  bottle.  He 
was  on  terms  of  the  best  understanding  with  Miss 
Bolyston,  as  one  could  see  with  half  an  eye;  and 
twice  in  the  mall  and  once  in  the  Sunday  church 
throng  when  he  was  with  that  lady,  Wallace  had  lifted 
his  hat  with  a  fine  sweep  in  recognition  of  the  stiff 
little  bows  which  the  ladies  exchanged,  but  with  no 
appearance  of  saluting  Luya  on  his  own  account. 

To  aggravate  her  discontent,  the  frivolous  Miss 
Lynn,  whose  ambition  it  was  to  be  smartly  malicious, 
but  whose  wit  only  allowed  her  to  be  tedious,  came 
with  her  usual  budget  of  scandalous  small  talk  to 
assure  Luya  that  she  had  it  on  the  best  authority 
that  Mr.  Waring,  being  in  threatening  straits,  had 
arranged  for  a  redemptive  marriage  between  his  son 
and  Miss  Boylston.  Miss  Lynn  meant  only  to  be 
amusingly  spiteful  at  Wallace's  expense,  as  she  knew 
nothing  of  Luya's  inward  griefs  ;  but  the  gossip  was 
run  off  in  Mrs.  Vanbergen's  presence,  and  the  excel- 
lent woman  saw  how  very  deeply  Luya  received  the 
chance  thrust,  notwithstanding  her  flippant  reply  to 
Miss  Lynn. 

The  visitor  having  left  them,  Mrs.  Vanbergen  was 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  2QI 

on  the  point  of  making  some  observations  which  she 
thought  would  prove  timely,  but  hesitated  how  to 
begin,  a  hesitancy  accompanied  by  a  hemming  to  clear 
the  throat  which  Luya  had  long  ago  learned  to  inter- 
pret. 

"  I  see,  mamma,  that  you  are  thinking  to  give  me 
a  prosing." 

"  Would  you  think  it  prosing  if  I  offer  to  counsel 
you  ? " 

"  I  know  not  what  other  name  you  may  give  it, 
for  I  protest  I  know  of  nothing  more  prosy  than 
advice.  But  if  it  is  a  pleasure  to  you  to  imagine  me 
again  at  your  apron-strings,  it  is  my  pleasure  to  be 
there.  Now,  then,  you  sweetest  of  preachers,  I  am 
ready,"  laughingly  kneeling  in  front  of  her  mother, 
and  leaning  upon  her  lap ;  "  begin  —  but  I  will  not 
have  you  talk  on  any  one  of  six  subjects." 

"  And  what  subjects  are  they  ? " 

"I  shall  name  them  as  you  trespass  on  them." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  should  find  myself  quite  silenced 
by  that  means,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen  smiled. 

"  Then  let  me  be  your  vicar.  I'll  talk  for  you, 
and  lay  to  heart  in  the  pleasantest  manner  possible 
all  the  wise  reflections  I  shall  take  from  your  mind. 
In  the  first  place  I  shall  heed  your  wish  that  I  dance 
but  moderately  at  the  ball  to-night ;  and  I  shall  not 
quit  the  room  after  until  I  have  wrapped  the  silk 
scarf  twice  about  my  throat  — -  " 


292  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK 

"  Luya,  my  child,"  Mrs.  Vanbergen  interrupted, 
in  a  gently  chiding  way,  stroking  the  ripples  of  light 
brown  hair  over  the  temples,  "  do  you  think  you  can 
deceive  your  mother  ?  Do  you  think  I  cannot  look 
deeper  into  your  heart  than  where  the  smiles  are  ? " 

"  And  what  do  you  see  below  the  smiles  ?  " 

"  Some  of  the  tears  that  fall  when  you  are  alone." 

"  Indeed,  mamma,  you  see  but  the  tears  that  may 
be  in  your  own  eyes,  for  I  am  as  free  from  a  reason 
to  weep  —  " 

"  As  you  are  from  the  will  to  confide  in  me  ?  " 

"  Nonsense,  mamma  !  " 

"  Exactly  what  I  say,  Luya, —  it  is  nonsense  for  you 
to  go  on  in  this  stubborn  way,  beating  your  heart 
to  pieces  against  the  prejudices  of  a  stupid  old  man." 

"  But  my  heart  is  not  beating  in  pieces.  It  does 
its  work  in  a  very  regular  and  methodical  way,  I 
give  you  my  word,  mamma.  And  if  it  were  feeble 
enough  to  get  out  of  repair,  and  fall  to  doing 
eccentric  things,  it  shall  never  be  over  anybody's 
prejudices  but  my  own." 

"  Do  you  imagine,  Luya,  that  I  do  not  see  that 
your  cheeks  are  thinner  and  paler  ?  " 

"  And  do  you  imagine,  you  blessed  trembler,  that 
a  girl  can  play  at  fashion  and  keep  all  the  colour 
and  plumpness  of  a  dairymaid  ?  I  have  just  the 
modish  complexion." 

"Then  I  could  wish  you  were  less  modish  and 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


293 


more  in  your  former  contentment.  Though,  for  my 
life,  I  cannot  see  why  you  need  be  miserable,  for, 
if  you  may  not  have  just  the  man  you  love  the  most, 
let  me  tell  you,  Luya,  the  best  fortune  for  a  girl 
is  to  get  the  man  who  loves  her  well.  To  be  well 
loved  is  better  for  a  woman  than  to  love." 

What  Luya  might  have  answered  had  not  Mr. 
Vanbergen  entered  the  room,  Mrs.  Vanbergen  was 
left  to  conjecture.  But  Mr.  Vanbergen  having  heard 
and  approved  his  wife's  remark,  broke  in  cheerily  to 
declare  : 

"Ja,  'tis  so!  I  t'ink  t'at  vay.  You  petter  haf 
t'e  same  opinions,  Luya." 

Luya  arose,  and,  kissing  her  mother's  cheek,  went 
to  Mr.  Vanbergen  and  said,  with  mock  severity  : 

"  Papa  Vanbergen,  when  you  are  about  to  enter  a 
room  where  ladies  are  talking  in  private,  you  should 
make  a  noise  before  opening  the  door." 

"  Put  you  and  your  moeder  ton't  count.  Besites, 
I  haf  talked  to  your  moeder  apout  t'e  very  business, 
and  my  opinions  is  her  opinions.  I  t'ink,  also,  t'at 
'tis  petter  for  a  voomans  to  love  t'an  pe  lovet.  Put 
you  von't  tone  neiter,  for  you  von't  marry  Vallace 
Varing,  and  you  von't  marry  Jacob  ;  ant  so  I  say, 
talking  all  t'e  time  as  your  fat'er  —  " 

"  Which  it  is  very  impolite  of  you  to  do,  papa, 
since  you  see  me  anxious  to  get  past  you  without 
tipping  you  over.  And  I  find  it  most  unkind  of  you 


294  IN  OLD  NEW~  YORK. 

to  reproach  me  with  not  having  married,  when  I 
should  have  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  keep 
me  with  you.  But,  though  you  are  cruel  enough  to 
blame  me  for  my  devotion,  I  have  charity  enough 
to  forgive  you  in  spite  of  it." 

She  pinched  his  two  lips  together  while  she  was 
speaking,  and  now  kissing  one  corner  of  them  she 
left  him  laughingly,  and  escaped  out  of  the  room. 

"  Bonder  !  vife,  if  she  von't,  vat  are  ve  going  to 
to  for  kleinzoons  ?  Ve  must  haf  grantchiltren." 

"The  Lord  will  send  them  in  his  own  time, 
Evert." 

"  Put  he  von't  sent  t'em  if  somepoty  ton't  let 
him  know  t'at  ve  vant  t'em.  You  haf  to  take  t'e 
Lort  into  your  confidences  ven  you  vant  him  to 
to  you  favours." 

"  I  believe  Luya  is  most  unhappy,  Evert." 

"  Vat  you  say !  A  girls  as  full  of  amusingness 
like  t'at,  unhappy !  Ant  going  to  a  tances  in  a  gown 
t'at  cost  me  twenty  pounts  !  Unhappy  !  How  you 
talk,  vife  !  Vy  shoult  she  pe  unhappy  ?  " 

"  Because  Wallace  Waring  has  been  home  a  week 
without  once  having  called  to  see  her." 

"  Tamn  Vallace  Varing !  I  t'ought  she  hat  for- 
gotten all  apout  him.  I'll  go  have  some  talks  vit 
him.  I'll  pring  him  pack  to  her." 

"  Bless  your  soul,  Evert,  you  could  do  nothing  to 
make  Luya  more  angry  with  you." 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  295 

"  Angry  vit  me  for  pringing  to  her  t'e  man  she 
vants  ? " 

"Yes,  if  the  man  had  not  come  without  the 
bringing." 

"Veil,  t'en,  vy  t'e  tuivel  she  ton't  take  Jacob? 
He  comes  vitout  t'e  pringing !  But  t'at's  t'e  vay ! 
If  you  gif  a  voomans  vat  she  vants  she  ton't  vant  it, 
ant  t'e  ting  she  can't  haf  is  t'e  t'ing  she  can't  lif 
vitout." 

"  How  about  me,  Evert  ? "  Mrs.  Vanbergen  asked, 
putting  an  arm  about  his  shoulder,  and  smiling  into 
his  troubled  face. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  let  the  dim  frown  fade  quite  out 
of  his  forehead,  and  the  habitual  smile  recovered 
possession  of  his  lips. 

"  You  aren't  a  voomans,  you  are  a  angels.  You 
slippet  out  of  heavens  ven  nopoty  vas  looking." 

He  brushed  back  the  loop  of  gray  hair  from  her 
brow,  and  smoothed  her  cheek  with  his  chubby  hand, 
gazing  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  satisfied  own- 
ership that  would  have  been  comical  had  it  not  been 
infinitely  tender.  Then  he  took  her  head  between 
both  his  hands  and  kissed  her,  held  her  head  a  little 
from  him  to  note  the  effect,  and  kissed  her  again. 

"  Ve  are  some  happy  olt  fools,  he,  vife  ?  " 

"  Old  and  happy,  yes,  Evert ;  and  fools  maybe." 

"  Veil,  'tis  a  goot  t'ing  to  pe  fools  like  t'at." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

LUYA,  on  quitting  the  room,  had  found  Jacob  in 
the  kitchen  at  the  mercy  of  Hendrik,  who  was  rating 
him  roundly  upon  his  declining  interest  in  the  carrier 
service  of  the  pigeons.  Jacob  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  taking  the  pigeons  once  a  week  to  keep  them  over 
night,  and  send  them  back  in  the  morning  with 
messages  bound  to  their  legs.  This  he  had  neglected 
to  do  for  the  past  two  weeks,  and  Hendrik  was  com- 
plaining that  the  birds  would  get  out  of  practice, 
Jacob  seriously  explaining  the  unreasonableness  of 
the  fear. 

"  You  must  not  scold  Jacob,  Hendrik ;  that  is  my 
own  exclusive  privilege.  And  then,  I  want  him  to 
be  in  the  good  humour  now  to  take  me  for  a  walk 
along  the  Battery.  I  wish  to  get  my  lungs  full  of 
sea  air,  Jacob,  to  fortify  me  for  the  ball  to-night. 
Are  you  inclined  to  oblige  me  with  your  company  ? " 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Jacob,  rising  and  taking  up  his 
hat. 

"Wait  for  me  on  the  stoop.  I  shall  not  be  five 
minutes  behind  you." 

296 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  297 

She  went  to  put  on  the  most  capricious  thing  of  a 
bonnet,  and  joined  him  with  a  lavender-coloured,  soft 
crape  shawl,  draped  over  her  shoulders,  the  autumn 
days  having  begun  to  lose  something  of  their  mild- 
ness. And  she  had  thrust  into  her  hair  a  rose  that 
hung  down  over  her  ear  in  the  most  fascinatingly 
rowdy  fashion,  defiantly  threatening  to  quit  its  place 
with  every  motion  she  made,  but  giving  a  coquettish 
addition  to  the  quiet  charm  of  her  toilet.  It  pleas- 
antly piqued  Jacob,  who  wondered  if  she  knew  that 
it  hung  so  insecurely,  and  if  he  should  not  offer  to 
put  it  better  in  place,  —  but  thinking  it  the  prettiest 
accident  that  ever  perfected  beauty. 

They  had  made  some  turns  up  and  down,  nodding 
to  the  other  promenaders,  but  few  in  number,  Luya 
chatting  animatedly,  Jacob  replying  with  his  usual 
laconic  slowness,  when,  arriving  in  front  of  one  of 
the  benches,  Luya  said,  abruptly : 

"  Sit  down  here  now,  Jacob,  and  tell  me  what  it  is 
that  makes  you  so  prodigiously  solemn.  I  could 
swear  you  are  in  a  mind  to  beat  me,  you  are  so  very 
gruff  and  curt." 

"  I,  Luya !  " 

"  You,  Jacob.  I  see  very  well  you  are  vexed  with 
me.  You  are  provoked  against  me,  and  haven't  the 
art  to  conceal  your  displeasure.  Well,  then,  take  me 
to  task  that  I  may  have  the  liberty  to  defend  myself ; 
for  I  find  nothing  so  detestable  as  accusations  that 


298  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

are  unanswerable  through  being  unspoken.  In  what 
have  I  offended  you,  Jacob  ? " 

"  I  don't  like  to  see  you  unjust,  that's  all,  Luya," 
Jacob  answered,  frankly  and  simply. 

"  Unjust !  "  exclaimed  Luya.  "Whatever  do  you 
mean,  Jacob  ? "  though  her  look  straight  ahead  and 
away  from  him  was  a  distinct  confession  that  she 
knew  well  enough  what  he  meant.  "  I  hope  you  are 
not  going  to  charge  me  in  enigmas." 

"  I  mean  the  way  you  are  treating  Wallace  Waring." 

"  Treating  him !  I  am  having  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  him." 

"That  is  it.     You  should  have." 

"  Really  !  And  do  you  know  how  that  gentleman 
has  treated  me  f  If  I  had  not  eyes  that  will  carry 
at  distance,  I  should  not  be  sure  that  Mr.  Waring  is 
in  town  at  all!  I  vow,  Jacob,  I  have  half  a  mind 
to  be  vexed  with  you  for  reminding  me  how  much 
I  am  in  Mr.  Waring' s  neglect." 

"  The  fault  is  yours,  Luya.  You  know  very  well 
it  is  in  the  heart  of  no  man  to  neglect  you  if  you 
give  him  leave  to  seek  you." 

"  Leave,  indeed,  Jacob  !  When  Mr.  Waring  comes 
to  ask  my  leave —  " 

"  You  should  not  wait  for  that.  You  should  send 
to  him." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Jacob !  "  said  Luya,  willing  to 
seem  offended,  but  conscious  how  little  reason  she 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  299 

had  to  play  a  vain  role  with  the  downright  candour 
of  this  man  who  knew  her  heart  hardly  less  surely 
than  she  knew  it  herself. 

"  You  are  driving  him  away  from  you,"  Jacob  went 
on,  evenly,  as  if  stating  the  merest  commonplaces. 
"He  is  as  proud  as  you  are.  Other  friends  are 
kinder  to  him.  Miss  Boylston  is  not  so  hard  to  come 
at.  If  you  turn  him  away,  it  would  be  no  marvel  if 
he  went  to  her." 

"  And  if  he  were  to  do  that  ? " 

"  'Twould  be  a  great  pity." 

"  You  have  a  mighty  sympathy  with  Mr.  Waring, 
Jacob  ! " 

"  No  ;  I  haven't  thought  much  about  him.  But  I 
shouldn't  like  to  see  two  people  spoil  their  lives  over 
a  trifle  of  pride.  You  are  in  the  wrong,  Luya.  It 
is  your  place  to  set  things  right.  He  only  wants  a 
word  from  you.  Your  heart  is  eager  to  speak  that 
word.  Speak  it." 

"  Why,  Jacob,"  she  said,  looking  wonderingly  into 
his  face,  a  tone  of  admiration  in  her  voice,  "  do  you 
know  you  are  pleading  the  cause  of  a  —  rival  ? " 

She  spoke  the  last  words  in  hesitating  delicacy, 
putting  out  her  hand  to  let  her  fingers  rest  on  his 
arm.  She  doubted  if  he  realised  in  the  moment  the 
full  meaning  of  his  words.  She  thought  he  would 
have  been  glad  of  the  estrangement. 

"  Not  the  cause  of  a  rival,  Luya,"  he  said,  shaking 


3OO  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

his  head.  "I  am  pleading  only  for  your  —  happi- 
ness. I  want  to  see  you  happy.  I  haven't  any 
rivals.  I  should  be  ready  to  kill  any  man  who  could 
wrong  you,  but  I  could  not  feel  anything  but  good- 
will for  the  man  who  loves  you  and  whom  you  love. 
I  want  to  see  you  marry  the  man  you  love.  I  can't 
bear  to  see  you  taking  a  course  to  break  your  heart 
at  last.  It  is  your  place  to  make  amends,  —  for 
Wallace  doesn't  know  yet  what  prompted  you  to 
write  what  you  did  to  him.  You  haven't  explained 
to  him  as  you  have  to  me,  but  it  is  to  him  that 
the  explanation  belongs.  He  thinks  now  that  it 

Jacob  stopped,  his  mind  having  begun  to  review 
a  scene  in  the  counting-room  the  second  day  after 
Wallace  War  ing's  return.  He  was  alone  at  the 
desk  when  Wallace  came  in,  and  he  had  risen  with 
a  friendly  exclamation  and  an  outstretched  hand  of 
welcome. 

But  Wallace  had  repelled  him  with  a  gesture  not 
altogether  courteous. 

"  I  am  not  come  to  shake  hands,  Mr.  Wilbruch. 
My  purpose  is  rather  to  settle  a  doubt  at  the  sword's 
point,  if  you  cannot  persuade  me  that  my  suspicions 
wrong  you." 

Jacob  looked  a  moment  in  surprised  study  of  the 
calmly  angry  face  before  him,  then  thrust  forward 
a  chair  and,  requesting  Wallace  to  be  seated,  went 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


301 


to  turn  the  key  in  the  lock.  Wallace  did  not  sit 
down,  and  Jacob,  coming  back,  stood  mildly  curious 
in  front  of  him. 

"  What  are  your  suspicions  ? "  he  asked. 

"  They  concern  the  pains  I  think  you  took  to  dis- 
honour me  in  a  lady's  eyes." 

"What  lady?" 

"  There  is  hardly  a  need  of  names  between  us." 

"  You  mean  Luya  ? " 

"  I  mean  Miss  Vanbergen,"  Wallace  said,  cor- 
rectively. "  You,  Mr.  Wilbruch,  are  the  only  person 
acquainted  with  the  circumstances  of  the  affair  in 
which  you  officiously  interested  yourself,  who  could 
have  had  any  motive  in  making  a  bad  showing  of 
them  to  the  lady  I  have  named.  Besides  yourself 
there  were  only  Lieutenant  Willett  and  Mr.  Bradford 
who  had  knowledge  of  the  facts;  and  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  point  you  out  as  the  one  to  have  incensed 
the  lady  against  me,  the  others  having  so  little  reason 
to  injure  me  in  that  direction.  The  lady  wrote  me 
a  note  of  dismissal  that  proved  her  to  have  had  the 
worst  aspects  of  the  affair  set  before  her.  I  come 
to  you  at  my  first  opportunity  for  an  explanation," 

Jacob  had  stood  with  no  other  sign  than  a  harden- 
ing of  the  face  into  something  more  than  its  habitual 
gravity,  until  Wallace  had  finished.  He  then  crossed 
the  room,  unlocked  and  opened  the  door,  and,  hold- 
ing it  ajar,  said,  quietly  : 


3O2  Iff  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  You  come  to  the  wrong  person  for  an  explanation, 
Mr.  Waring." 

"  You  refuse  me  an  explanation  ? "  Wallace  de- 
manded, stepping  forward,  threateningly. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  explain." 

"  Then  you  shall  give  me  satisfaction.  I  shall 
send  my  friends  to  you." 

"  You  may  save  yourself  that  trouble.  I  shall  not 
.engage  with  your  friends." 

"You  will  refuse  me  the  satisfaction  I  demand 
of  you?" 

"  I  owe  you  no  satisfaction.  I  shall  not  fight  with 
you.  These  are  business  hours.  Some  one  may 
come.  May  I  ask  you  to  go  ? " 

Wallace  laughed. 

"  I  might  have  known  you  were  a  coward  as  well 
as  a  rogue,  since  none  but  a  coward  would  pretend 
to  befriend  a  man  in  order  the  better  to  betray  him. 
So,  you  will  not  fight,  Mr.  Wilbruch.  You  are  con- 
tent to  have  gained  your  point  without  risk  to  your 
skin,  and  feel  secure  enough  in  your  possession  not 
to  take  the  peril  of  defending  it.  There  were  small 
credit  in  striking  you,  but,  that  nothing  may  be 
omitted  —  " 

Wallace  had  raised  his  hand  to  slap  it  into  Jacob's 
face,  but  it  was  arrested  in  its  course.  Though  not 
wanting  in  strength  himself,  he  felt  that  there  was 
more  than  his  master  in  the  grip  that  held  his  wrist, 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  303 

and  he  scarcely  attempted  to  release  himself  from 
Jacob's  grasp.  But  he  looked  fiercely  enough  into 
Jacob's  eyes  during  the  seconds  that  his  wrist  was 
in  that  vice-like  pressure,  until  suddenly  it  came 
upon  him  that  there  was  something  marvellously 
steady  in  those  gray  eyes,  and  something  far  from 
ignoble  in  the  calm,  clear  face  over  which  not  so 
much  as  a  shadow  of  anger  had  passed.  And 
Wallace  continued  to  gaze,  after  his  arm  had  been 
released,  all  that  was  fine  in  his  own  nature  rising 
up  to  accuse  him  as  against  this  man,  and,  before  he 
was  aware  of  his  purpose  to  speak,  he  had  declared  : 

"  You  are  not  a  coward,  Wilbruch,  and  damn  me 
if  I  can  believe  you  are  a  rogue  !  " 

Then  a  change,  like  the  light  on  a  leaf  which 
flutters  between  sunshine  and  shadow  in  the  breeze, 
passed  swiftly  over  Jacob's  face;  but  before  his 
thoughts  got  into  words,  Wallace,  perturbed  and 
uncertain,  had  gone  out  at  the  door  still  held  open  for 
him. 

Jacob,  reviewing  this  scene,  and  thinking  for  the 
hundredth  time  upon  the  enlightening  things  he 
might  have  said  had  his  wits  been  better  servants  to 
his  will,  was  brought  to  take  account  of  Luya's  pres- 
ence by  a  tug  at  his  coat-sleeve. 

"  You  are  a  long  time  finding  what  it  is  that  Mr. 
Waring  thinks  now!  Where  have  you  sent  your 
mind  in  chase  of  him?" 


304  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  I  was  going  to  say  that  he  thinks  I  am  in  some 
way  to  blame  for  your  treatment  of  him."  He  put 
his  hands  on  hers  in  an  apologetic  way  as  he  added, 
"  It  isn't  like  you,  Luya,  to  be  unjust ;  but  you  are 
being  unjust  to  three  people,  —  most  unjust  to  your- 
self. You  are  punishing  yourself  in  making  Wallace 
suffer  and  you  are  letting  him  believe  things  are 
true  that  are  not  true.  I  am  not  saying  what  I  want 
to  say.  I  don't  know  how  to  say  things.  But  you 
owe  it  to  Wallace  to  make  friends  with  him.  Do  it." 

Luya  sat  silent  for  a  time,  looking  at  a  passing 
sail,  and  thinking  how  sensible  was  Jacob's  way  of 
seeing  things.  She  recalled  their  conversation  in  the 
boat  at  Albany  when  she  had  offered  to  marry 
him,  and  he  seemed  now,  as  then,  a  sort  of  monitor 
with  less  than  his  share  of  human  frailties  and  pas- 
sions. 

"  Sometimes  I  marvel  at  you,  Jacob.  You  are  not 
a  man  of  these  days.  You  belong  to  the  time  of 
knights.  You  shall  be  my  knight.  I'll  pin  this  rose 
to  your  breast.  You  may  change  it  to  the  coat  you 
will  wear  at  the  ball  to-night,  if  it  keeps  its  freshness, 
—  and  I  promise  you  that  before  it  is  quite  withered 
away  I  shall  do  my  best  to  make  my  peace  with 
Wallace." 

She  took  the  rose  from  her  hair,  though  he  would 
have  prevented  her,  and  began  pinning  it  on  his 
breast. 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  305 

"You  should  have  left  it  where  it  was  prettiest," 
he  protested. 

"  It  is  ungenteel  of  you  not  to  think  it  pret- 
tiest where  I  choose  to  place  it.  Oh !  there,  you 
see,  —  your  rebellion  has  made  me  prick  my 
finger." 

She  held  up  the  finger,  showing  him  the  tiny  drop 
of  blood  peeping  through  the  white  skin. 

"  And  pin-points  are  poisonous,"  Jacob  said,  taking 
her  hand  with  as  much  concern  as  if  the  affair  were 
serious,  and  quickly  putting  his  lips  to  the  finger  to 
draw  the  poison. 

«  How  foolish  of  you,  Jacob !  "  she  laughed,  half 
struggling  to  get  her  hand  free.  "  Tis  nothing.  At 
least  you  might  have  let  me  do  it  for  myself." 

"  How  perfectly  charming  a  picture  !  "  some  one 
cried,  and  Luya,  starting  up  and  looking  behind  her, 
saw  that  Miss  Boylston,  Wallace,  Miss  Lynn,  and 
Ashton  had  approached  them,  crossing  from  the 
Parade. 

"  And  a  thousand  pities  to  have  spoiled  it !  "  Miss 
Lynn  simpered.  "  I  vow,  Miss  Boylston,  you  should 
not  have  spoken." 

"  You  lent  yourself  most  feelingly  to  the  pose, 
Miss  Vanbergen,"  Ashton  said.  "You're  quite  an 
adept  in  the  art." 

"  I  am  sure,"  Luya  said,  covering  her  embarrass- 
ment with  a  mocking  gaiety,  "  that  Miss  Boylston 


306  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

or  Miss  Lynn  may  do  as  well,  if  you  will  oblige  them 
with  a  finger-prick." 

"  Oh,  'twas  a  hurt  finger ! "  Miss  Boylston 
laughed;  "and  the  gentleman's  lips  were  laid  on  as 
poultices !  'Tis  the  very  romance  of  surgery." 

"  Egad !  I'd  turn  surgeon  for  such  practice  as 
that,"  Ashton  declared.  "  What  say  you,  Waring  ? " 

Wallace  was  rather  in  the  vein  for  wringing  necks 
than  for  kissing  fingers,  and  might  have  made  some 
answer  not  entirely  courteous  had  not  Luya,  obeying 
an  impulse  that  was  partly  the  prompting  of  pride, 
anticipated  him. 

"I  am  sure  Mr.  Waring  will  not  need  to  make 
himself  a  surgeon  in  order  to  show  politeness  to  a 
lady."  Then,  advancing  toward  him,  and  holding 
out  her  hand,  she  added,  with  a  look  and  a  smile  that 
he  would  have  been  dull  to  misunderstand,  "  I  believe 
I  am  the  last  of  your  friends  to  welcome  you  back, 
but  my  welcome  is  not  the  least  sincere." 

He  took  her  hand  and  bowed  over  it,  and  would 
have  released  it  without  a  pressure  but  that  her 
fingers  seemed  to  cling  to  him.  He  raised  her  hand 
to  his  lips. 

"Forgive  me,  Wallace,"  she  whispered. 

He  lifted  his  head  and  they  exchanged  glances 
that  were  more  eloquent  than  speech ;  but,  giving 
him  no  time  to  reply  in  words,  she  turned  to  Jacob 
and  said,  laughingly : 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  307 

"  Come,  surgeon,  we  will  leave  these  good  people 
to  break  jests  upon  us  without  embarrassment." 

And,  taking  Jacob's  arm,  she  went  up  the  walk 
with  him,  finding  the  earth  surprisingly  elastic  under 
her  step. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

IT  was  commonly  agreed  that  the  ball  was  a  famous 
affair.  No  one  was  invidious  enough  to  pretend  to 
a  memory  of  anything  more  brilliant  in  kind.  Per- 
haps more  democratic  in  variety  than  one  or  two 
that  had  given  earlier  renown  to  the  Black  Horse 
Inn,  it  suffered  nothing  in  point  of  elegance  from 
comparison  with  any  social  event  in  the  history  of 
the  town.  Indeed,  the  gentlemen  and  principal  mer- 
chants of  the  city,  in  uniting  to  do  honour  to  the 
Governor,  had  resolved  to  leave  nothing  undone  that 
could  contribute  to  the  celebrity  of  the  fete.  Never 
were  so  many  candles  seen  blazing  to  light  an  equal 
number  of  people ;  and  that  the  illumination  of  mind 
might  be  no  less  radiant,  wine  was  to  be  served  by  the 
hogshead.  Notable  guests  had  arrived  by  invitation 
from  Philadelphia  and  Albany,  as -well  as  from  Wil- 
liamsburg  and  Charleston,  and  there  was  a  chance  Per- 
sonage come  from  London  to  confer  with  the  Governor 
on  certain  colonial  problems;  so  that  local  dignity 
was  much  put  to  it  to  preserve  a  proper  distinction. 
There  were  some  initial  perplexities  over  questions 
of  precedence  ;  but  where  the  wish  to  be  amiable  is 
308 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


309 


superior  to  every  other  consideration,  difficulties  of 
the  sort  are  easy  of  adjustment  by  that  simple  rule 
of  courtesy  which  substitutes  sensibility  for  egotism. 
Good-humour  locked  arms  with  gaiety ;  and  if  it  be 
the  rule  that  assemblies  are  but  a  tediousness  to  the 
flesh  and  a  weariness  to  the  soul,  certainly  this 
November  night  ball,  the  last  which  Mr.  Todd  lived 
to  see  under  his  hospitable  roof,  had  no  acquaintance 
with  ennui. 

It  is  hardly  to  be  denied  that  there  was  some  of 
that  ostentation  of  riches  which  many  imagine  to  be 
the  evidence  of  a  social  eminence ;  nor  need  it  be 
pretended  that  there  was  no  vulgarity  decked  out  in 
velvets  and  laces  ;  but  there  was  much  to  justify  the 
remark  of  the  Personage  to  the  Governor  that  he 
"should  not  look  to  find  a  prettier  company  in  St. 
James's  itself."  The  beaux  were  as  smart  as  their 
London  patterns,  in  their  long-skirted  coats  of  rich 
velvet,  in  a  colour  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  wearer  ;  and 
had  as  shapely  legs  for  satin  small-clothes  and  silk 
stockings,  and  wore  as  much  Flemish  lace  in  frills 
and  in  jabots  and  at  the  edges  of  their  white  dressed- 
leather  gloves ;  and  carried  their  beavers  tucked 
under  their  arms  with  as  secure  a  grace ;  and  tilted 
their  silver-hilted  swords  with  as  genteel  an  air  of 
masterful  impudence.  If  a  powdered  wig  magnifies 
the  coarse  features  of  a  clown,  it  also  enhances  the 
manly  traits  of  a  fine  countenance ;  and  there  were 


310  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

more  good  faces  than  ill-favoured  ones  to  the  share 
of  the  gentlemen  who  moved  consciously  about  to 
the  admiration  of  the  ladies.  And  charming  were 
these  ladies  in  the  latest  modes  both  of  dress  and  of 
manner  brought  from  the  worlds  of  Paris  and  London. 
Stiff  bodices  and  skirts  with  deep  panniers,  and 
hooped  petticoats  of  no  great  breadth,  may  be  worn 
with  amazing  dignity  when  the  rich  material  in  be- 
coming colours  is  handsomely  brocaded  in  masses  of 
gold  and  silver  flowers  to  give  it  a  formal  set,  and 
white  throats  and  bosoms  show  the  more  enticingly 
through  the  parure  of  jewels  for  the  uncompromising 
rigidity  of  a  bodice.  Happily,  the  fashion  of  dressing 
the  hair  low  was  come  in,  so  that  the  ladies  could 
lend  their  heads  more  freely  to  the  animations  of 
conversation  and  receive  a  compliment  with  less  bolt- 
upright  effrontery.  When  a  lady  may  not  incline 
her  head  without  the  danger  of  losing  her  balance, 
it  is  impossible  that  a  flirtation  should  preserve  the 
delicate  bloom  of  intimacy,  without  which  gallantry 
is  but  a  process  of  mathematics. 

Miss  Boylston  had  planned  against  being  eclipsed 
in  the  magnificence  of  her  attire,  and,  as  she  made 
her  way  through  the  crowded  rooms  on  a  tour  of 
fluttering  inspection,  her  smile  of  satisfaction  became 
more  and  more  graciously  engaging.  She  had  espe- 
cially dreaded  the  rivalry  of  Lady  Montlevel,  a  vain 
body  who  held  a  sort  of  regency  over  the  society  of 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  311 

Philadelphia;  but,  in  a  critical  pause  beside  that 
lady,  she  had  drawn  as  deep  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the 
bondage  of  her  gown  allowed  and  felt  a  tingling 
triumph  relax  her  nerves.  Not  only  was  the  brocade 
weighting  down  her  skirt  in  a  larger  pattern  of  silver 
and  gold,  but  her  diamonds  were  as  large  and  more 
numerous,  and  Miss  Boylston  did  not  for  an  instant 
question  the  superiority  of  her  beauty  to  that  of  the 
Lady  Montlevel.  If  her  reassured  vanity  had  any 
lingering  fears,  they  were  dispelled  by  the  exclama- 
tions of  admiration  she  overheard  from  all  sides  as 
she  passed  on  Lieutenant  Willett's  arm.  She  had 
nearly  completed  the  reconnaissance  of  the  company, 
and  her  spirits  were  rising  to  their  liveliest  flow, 
when  the  lieutenant  abruptly  directed  her  attention 
to  a  group  on  the  left  by  demanding : 

"  Who  the  deuce  is  that  beauty  ? "  and,  before  she 
had  time  to  answer,  he  continued,  "  As  I'm  a  sinner, 
it  is  the  Vanbergen  !  Gad !  she's  prodigious !  I 
had  not  thought  she  could  make  so  devilishly  fine  a 
figure ! " 

"  Artful  minx ! "  Miss  Boylston  said,  half  aloud, 
after  a  quick  but  comprehensive  survey  of  the  offend- 
ing object,  and  led  the  lieutenant  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

Luya,  as  the  lilies  of  the  field,  was  arrayed  in 
simplicity.  Her  hair,  gathered  back  loosely  from 
her  forehead,  had  neither  sprig  nor  hairpin  for  orna- 


312  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

ment.  Her  gown,  of  dim  blue  stuff  woven  with  a 
silver  silk  brocade  in  a  delicate  pattern  of  vines  and 
buds,  had  no  other  relief  than  the  clouds  of'  cobweb 
lace  falling  down  from  her  sleeves.  Her  only  jewelry 
was  the  coil  of  large  gold  beads  at  her  throat.  She 
might  have  stepped  from  the  missal  of  a  Franciscan 
monk,  save  that  there  was  much  too  worldly  a  light 
in  her  eyes,  and  too  little  religious  mystery  in  her 
smile.  An  artful  minx,  truly,  since  she  knew  very 
well  with  what  care  she  had  gone  about  setting  her- 
self in  the  completest  possible  contrast  to  Miss  Boyls- 
ton,  conscious  that  she  could  not  compete  with  her 
in  display.  But  Luya's  success  was  greater  than 
her  hope  of  pleasing  had  led  her  to  anticipate,  and 
when  the  Governor  himself  came  to  beg  the  honour 
of  dancing  a  measure  with  her,  it  was  not  in  nature 
that  she  should  be  unmoved  by  the  fact  that  Wallace 
and  Miss  Boylston  were  ranged  in  the  same  set  with 
her.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never  laughed 
so  easily,  talked  so  wittily,  nor  timed  her  feet  so  per- 
fectly to  music  in  all  her  life.  But  something  in 
the  regard  of  Wallace  may  have  had  to  do  with  her 
lightness. 

The  passion  for  gambling  was  much  too  keen  to 
be  put  under  restraint  to  the  most  frivolous  of  the 
Muses,  and  there  were  tables  conveniently  placed  for 
those  who  preferred  cards  to  dancing.  Most  of  these 
tables  were  occupied  by  eager  players  of  both  sexes, 


IN-  OLD  MEW  YORK.  3x3 

and  at  one  of  them  Lieutenant  Willett  had  been 
playing  for  some  time  with  Ashton,  young  Vinton 
Spencer,  —  who,  it  turned  out,  had  behaved  rather 
valiantly  at  Louisburg,  —  and  two  gentlemen  not  of 
our  acquaintance. 

"  You  keep  your  old  luck  at  cards,  I  see,  lieuten- 
ant," Spencer  remarked,  as  Willett  took  up  his  win- 
nings from  the  last  play. 

"I  call  it  by  the  name  of  skill,  Spencer.  Tis 
judgment,  not  luck,  that  gives  man  the  advantage." 

"You  say  that  to  escape  the  butt  end  of  the 
adage,"  Ashton  laughed.  "You  would  not  have 
us  think  you  can  be  without  luck  in  love." 

"  As  for  that,  I  think  love  to  be  as  much  a  matter 
of  judgment  as  cards  themselves.  I  should  as  soon 
play  blindfold  at  the  one  as  at  the  other." 

"I  should  like  to  have  your  application  of  that 
theory  to  your  affair  with  Miss  Boylston,"  said  Ash- 
ton, sotto  voce,  "  for  I'm  tempted  to  back  Waring's 
luck  against  your  judgment  in  that  direction." 

"You  would  lose,"  replied  Willett,  in  the  same 
low  tone,  "  for  I  am  about  to  play  a  card  which  will 
turn  the  account  very  much  against  the  chances  of 
Mr.  Waring." 

"  You  are  speaking  of  Waring  ? "  asked  Spencer, 
catching  at  the  name.  "  Is  it  true,  as  I  hear,  that 
his  father's  misfortunes  have  thrown  him  upon  his 
own  resources  ?  " 


314  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Something  has,"  said  Ashton. 

"  I'm  devilish  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  Spencer,  with 
great  sincerity. 

"  I  had  supposed  you  would  have  another  opinion," 
Willett  said,  dryly,  as  he  dealt  out  the  cards  anew. 

Spencer's  colour  heightened  a  little. 

"  Faith,  no,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  never  pleased  to  see 
a  gentleman  out  of  countenance  with  himself.  But 
I  had  thought  his  father  a  man  of  uncommon 
wealth." 

"A  man's  fortune  is  always  exaggerated  by  the 
town's  gossip,"  Willett  observed,  sagely.  "  But,  let 
the  reason  be  what  it  may,  old  Waring  is  no  longer 
correcting  the  infirmities  of  his  son's  purse,  and  is 
having  much  ado,  I'm  told,  to  keep  his  own  from 
gaping." 

"That  comes  of  a  gentleman's  taking  to  trade  at 
a  time  of  life  when  he  should  be  content  to  pipe 
for  others  to  dance,"  one  of  the  two  other  players 
ventured  to  say. 

"Quite  the  fact,  Cornish,"  Ashton  laughed.  "As 
'tis,  our  friend  Wallace  will  have  to  resort  to  the 
bankrupt's  providence." 

"  What  is  that  ? " 

"A  rich  marriage." 

"That  will  explain  his  devotion  to  Boylston's  gilded 
butterfly." 

"  Devil  take  it,  Cornish,"  expostulated  the  lieuten- 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  315 

ant,  "I'd  remind  you  to  be  more  respectful.  Because 
Waring  is  chasing  after  a  fortune  is  not  a  reason  to 
speak  lightly  of  every  lady  he  may  think  to  make  his 
victim !  " 

"  I  spoke  in  admiration,  not  in  lightness,  Willett. 
I  know  but  three  grades  of  women,  —  angels,  butter- 
flies, and  devils, — and,  as  I  hate  extremes,  I  think 
the  best  of  the  sex  is  the  middle." 

"By  George,  I'm  half  of  your  opinion,"  Ashton 
said,  "  though  I'm  not  averse  to  a  touch  of  the  devil 
to  take  out  the  insipidity.  And,  if  you'll  allow  me 
to  say  so,  Willett,  I  think  the  lady  we  speak  of  is  not 
without  a  flavour  of  brimstone,  —  else  how  the  deuce 
should  you  expect  to  come  near  her  ?  " 

"  For  my  part,"  Spencer  ventured,  "  I've  seen  no 
woman  yet  without  something  of  the  angel  in  her, 
and  I  dare  say  —  " 

"Don't,"  interposed  Willett,  "you  are  yet  too 
confoundedly  young,  Spencer,  to  deliver  homilies  on 
the  sex." 

"And  I'll  be  bound  that  Waring  will  find  the 
merit  of  an  angel  in  the  devil's  own  hag,  if  she  bring 
him  gold  enough  in  her  dowry." 

This  elegant  sally  from  Ashton  provoked  a  laugh 
about  the  table,  and  a  titter  in  the  circle  of  onlookers 
attracted  by  the  spirited  play  and  the  voluble  indiffer- 
ence of  the  players  to  the  caprices  of  the  cards. 

"Here  is  Waring  now,"   said   Spencer,  confiden- 


316  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

tially,  "  but  I  find  him  in  better  company  than  Ash- 
ton  has  named  for  him." 

Wallace  came  up  at  that  instant  with  Miss  Boyls- 
ton,  who  was  in  quest  of  the  lieutenant. 

"  La,  gentlemen,  are  you  all  winners,  that  you  are 
so  merry  over  your  game  ? "  asked  Miss  Boylston. 

"  Faith,  no,  Miss  Boylston,"  said  Ashton,  "  and  I 
am  so  much  out  of  humour  that  I  could  quarrel  with 
so  charming  a  creature  as  yourself  for  suspecting  me 
to  be  in  mirth." 

"  La,  Mr.  Ashton,"  Miss  Boylston  laughingly  de- 
clared, "  if  there  is  any  talk  of  quarrelling  by  a  gen- 
tleman so  even-tempered  as  yourself,  it  must  be 
that  the  cards  have  treated  you  but  shabbily  indeed." 

"  I  have  known  them  more  obliging.  But  they  and 
the  lieutenant  seem  bent  on  my  ruin  to-night." 

"Then  I  am  come  in  time  to  your 'rescue,  for  I 
have  him  on  my  tablets  for  the  next  dance." 

"And  I  shall  be  grateful,  too,  Miss  Boylston," 
Spencer  exclaimed,  "  for,  if  he  stop,  I  shall  not  have 
pence  enough  left  to  throw  to  a  beggar  in  another 
hour." 

"  You  should  quit  the  fellowship  of  cards,  taking 
pattern  by  Mr.  Waring's  virtue,  who  has  quite  for- 
sworn them." 

"'Tis  not  an  effect  of  virtue,"  Wallace  admitted, 
smilingly,  "I  am  under  compulsion." 

"  Oh,  but  virtue  is  generally  the  fruit  of  obligation. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  317 

Will  you  take  some  consolation  for  your  losses,  Mr. 
Ashton?"  tendering  him  her  jewelled  snuff-box  as 
she  spoke. 

"I  have  long  desired  to  have  the  privilege  to 
have  my  ringers  in  your  box,"  he  said,  accepting  the 
favour. 

"  'Tis  not  free  to  every  one,  believe  me ;  but  I 
remember  I  had  a  pinch  from  your  tabattire  when 
you  were  pleased  to  have  us  try  a  new  French 
powder.  This,  I  am  assured,  is  the  very  sort  made 
for  the  particular  use  of  the  King  of  Spain." 

"  Might  I  make  the  experiment  of  a  grain  or  two  ? " 
Spencer  asked,  reaching  out  a  predatory  thumb  and 
finger. 

"  Indeed,  no,  Mr.  Spencer,"  Miss  Boylston  replied, 
withdrawing  her  box  as  if  greatly  concerned  for  its 
contents.  "  'Tis  a  powder  much  too  precious  to  be 
wasted  in  the  nostrils  of  a  novice.  But  come,  lieu- 
tenant, —  if  the  gentlemen  will  excuse  you,  —  for  I 
hear  the  fiddles  scraping ;  and  since  I've  been  at  the 
trouble  to  seek  you,  I'm  not  in  the  humour  to  miss 
my  favourite  cotillion." 

"  Egad,  Miss  Boylston,  I  take  it  as  a  great  unkind- 
ness  your  insinuating  that  I  need  persuasion.  Upon 
my  word,  Sophie,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear  as  they 
moved  away,  "  you  have  but  to  crook  your  finger  to 
have  me  follow  you  to  the —  " 

"  And  upon   my  word,  Lieutenant  Willett,"    she 


318  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

interrupted,  "I  am  not  greatly  obliged  to  you  for 
the  intimation.  I  should  think  better  of  you  for  pre- 
venting me  going  in  the  direction." 

"  I  was  going  to  say  to  the  altar,"  he  urged. 

"  La,  lieutenant,  there  was  nothing  so  religious  in 
your  tone.  But  I  am  as  like  to  lead  you  in  the  one 
direction  as  in  the  other,  — for  I'll  swear  I  have  no 
thought  of  taking  you  to  church." 

"  Because  of  Wallace  Waring  ? " 

"That  question  is  as  stupid  as  it  is  impertinent. 
But  for  the  sake  of  something  to  say,  suppose  it  were 
because  of  him  ? " 

"  I  would  ask  you  how  you  are  going  to  dispose  of 
the  other's  claim." 

"  What  other  ?     The  piece  of  Holland  china  ? " 

"  Humph  !  no.  I  was  thinking  of  a  more  substan- 
tial obstacle,  —  though  I  spoke  without  reflection." 

"  Then,  on  reflection,  who  do  you  mean  ?  I've  not 
seen  him  attentive  to  any  one  so  very  formidable." 

"  No,  egad  !  'twas  managed  most  discreetly,  —  and 
yet  not  well  enough  to  escape  consequences  of  an 
unexpected  sort." 

"I  detest  equivocation,  lieutenant.  Who  is  the 
creature  ? " 

"  Claudine  Lambert." 

"What!" 

"  'Tis  a  fact,  upon  my  honour." 

"  A  garden  wench  !  " 


IN-  OLD  NEW  YORK.  3 1^ 

"But  a  very  pretty  one,  you  must  allow,  —  and 
not  a  vulgar  sort." 

"I  vow,  lieutenant,  I  have  no  faith  in  what  you 
say." 

"Then  you  may  take  your  incredulity  to  the 
father.  The  girl  is  gone  into  retreat,  —  taking 
French  leave ;  but  she  left  a  note  in  which  Wallace 
Waring's  name  was  writ  plainly  enough  for  the  most 
skeptical." 

"  Indeed,  lieutenant,  I  know  not  how  to  thank 
you ;  but  you  shall  see  in  the  zest  of  my  dancing 
that  I  am  obliged  to  you  to  the  tips  of  my  toes 
for  a  most  considerable  service." 

The  lieutenant's  spirits  went  up  to  the  major  pitch. 
He  felt  that  officer  and  gentleman  had  never  made 
spurious  draft  on  honour  with  better  justification. 
As  for  such  things  as  scruples  and  conscience,  — 
well,  if  the  stratagem  were  not  to  pass  for  a  jest 
when  his  ends  were  served,  he  would  very  willingly 
make  such  moral  amends  as  the  circumstances  should 
demand.  In  the  meantime,  it  was  pleasant  to  think 
with  what  ease  a  rival  had  been  set  out  of  range. 

But  had  the  lieutenant  been  able  to  catch  the  drift 
of  the  lady's  thoughts  he  would  have  been  teased 
to  find  that  the  sparkle  in  her  eyes  which  had  so 
enchanted  him  was  the  reflection  of  an  entirely  he- 
retical sentiment.  Miss  Boylston  was  thinking  to 
herself,  "  If  a  girl  is  fool  enough  to  let  herself  be 


320  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

made  a  toy  of,  I  care  not  a  fig's  end  if  she  have  the 
shame  of  it,  nor  do  I  think  the  less  of  a  gentleman 
for  eating  the  silly  peach  that  drops  in  his  hat.  But 
the  pert  Vanbergen  was  always  a  sentimental  sort  of 
ninny,  with  the  crudest  possible  principles  of  right 
and  wrong.  It  would  be  quite  like  her  to  turn  her 
back -on  a  man  because  of  a  peccadillo,  and  fall  into 
a  horror  over  an  infirmity.  Tis  a  thousand  pounds 
to  a  penny  but  she  will  send  Wallace  to  Bceotia  if  I 
drop  but  so  much  as  a  hint  of  this  in  her  ear.  'Tis 
a  pity  I'm  not  on  friendlier  terms  with  her.  But  she 
shall  come  at  the  news  by  some  means." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

WALLACE  did  not  find  the  opportunity  for  the 
exchange  of  more  than  a  passing  bow  with  Luya 
until  the  evening  was  well  advanced.  But  he  got  at 
last  the  favour  of  sitting  out  a  dance  with  her  ;  and, 
though  it  was  impossible  to  find  a  corner  sufficiently 
secluded  for  the  nicer  requirements  of  a  reconcilia- 
tion, they  came  to  very  good  terms  in  the  course  of 
half  an  hour.  The  explanations  did  not  proceed  very 
far,  for  the  reason  that  neither  of  them  felt  the  need 
of  justifying  the  concerted  beating  of  their  hearts, 
nor  the  all-forgiving  rapture  of  their  eyes.  Luya 
had  said  : 

"  I  have  so  much  to  confess  to  you  that  I  know 
not  where  to  make  a  beginning." 

Wallace  had  replied  : 

"  Begin  with  the  confession  that  you  love  me." 

They  found  so  many  ways  between  them  for  the 
confession  of  this  one  veniality  that  they  did  not 
come  to  the  bitter-sweet  of  mutual  reproaches  of 
their  follies  in  the  past  two  or  three  months.  And 
while  they  were  in  the  world-ignoring  serenity  of 
their  common  content,  Mr.  Waring,  passing  from 
321 


322  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

one  room  to  another,  came  upon  them  and  stopped, 
involuntarily,  a  few  feet  away  in  the  moment  of  sur- 
prise. Father  and  son  had  not  met  since  Wallace 
had  been  ordered  from  the  house.  Wallace  rose 
deferentially,  and  inclined  his  head,  and  would  have 
been  glad  to  reach  out  his  arms  for  the  embrace  of 
pardon  ;  but  Mr.  Waring,  having  looked  coldly  and 
emptily  at  Wallace,  passed  on  into  the  next  room, 
seeming  grayer  and  more  slender  than  ever  in  the 
showy  richness  of  his  party  dress. 

"  How  bitter  your  father  is  against  me !  "  Luya 
sighed,  a  sudden  check  put  upon  her  gaiety. 

"  It  is  not  against  you  but  against  me  that  he  feels 
bitterness." 

"But  it  is  on  my  account." 

"  No,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  you.  It  reminds 
me,  however,  that  I  owe  it  to  you  to  say  that  I  am 
henceforth  to  deal  with  the  world  on  an  independent 
footing.  It  is  no  longer  a  rich  man's  son  you  have 
for  a  lover,  but  a  slim-pursed  beggar  whose  wits  are 
his  only  capital." 

"Well,"  she  said,  looking  up  sidewise  at  him  a 
little  roguishly,  "you  told  me  once  that  you  could 
succeed  in  anything  you  would  set  your  mind  to 
accomplish." 

"  So  I  said,  Luya,  and,  egad !  so  I  can  ;  and  I 
have  some  ideas  I  think  will  level  a  road  to  the  end 
I  seek.  But  the  plague  of  it  is  that  time  is  needed 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  323 

to  bring  any  enterprise  to  its  fruitage.  I  know  not 
how  many  years  will  be  demanded  to  fit  me  for 
taking  a  wife." 

"  And  what  is  to  fit  you  for  that  ? " 

"Fortune,  Luya;  for  I  will  marry  no  girl  above 
me  in  fortune." 

"Then  your  vanity  is  greater  than  your  love. 
Why  should  not  the  woman  bring  the  money  to 
balance  with  the  man's  talent  ? " 

"  Because,  though  the  world  is  so  blinded  by  the 
glitter  of  the  golden  calf  that  it  cannot  recognise 
honour  apart  from  money,  it  is  so  stupid  in  its 
idolatry  as  to  despise  the  fellow  who  marries  to 
get  money." 

"  And  so  it  should.  But  to  marry  the  woman  you 
love,  in  spite  of  her  money,  is  a  vastly  different 
affair.  Yet,  as  for  that,"  she  said,  edging  a  little 
nearer  to  him,  and  looking  with  sweet  seriousness 
into  his  eyes,  "  I  am  willing  to  be  as  poor  as  you 
will  have  me.  My  father's  money  is  not  mine,  and  is 
no  blight  on  me,  I  hope.  And  what  my  husband's 
fortune  is  it  would  be  my  pride  to  share,  if  so  I 
might  help  him  to  its  betterment." 

"  Luya,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  purpose  to  test 
her  devotion,  "  my  father  has  cast  me  to  the  devil, 
or  to  what  better  patron  I  may  find,  and  his  consent 
to  my  marriage  or  any  other  undertaking  is  no 
longer  to  be  considered.  Marry  me !  Become  my 


324  IN  OLD   NEW  YORK. 

wife  in  these  next  two  months,  and  we  will  start  life 
as  many  another  lucky  couple  has  done,  with  the 
Bank  of  England  in  our  hearts,  and  God's  blessing  in 
our  pockets  !  Though,  to  be  honest  with  you,  I  have 
four  hundred  pounds  of  prize-money  in  the  bank  as 
the  foundation  of  my  business  career.  I'll  rank  with 
the  best  of  them  at  the  end  of  ten  years,  if  you'll 
put  your  smiles  into  the  enterprise.  What  say  you, 
Luya  ?  Dare  you  put  your  theory  into  the  practice  ?  " 

"  I  must  have  some  days  to  consider,"  she  an- 
swered, looking  down  and  idly  beating  at  her  knees 
with  her  fan.  "  One  must  be  wise  when  one  does 
things  that  other  people  think  foolish." 

He  chose  to  misunderstand  her,  and  put  a  wrong 
construction  on  the  smile  which  parted  her  lips,  a 
smile  that  might  have  told  him  of  her  readiness  to 
begin  the  mutual  struggle  on  the  morrow,  were  she 
alone  to  be  thought  of. 

"  Faith,  you  are  right !  I  was  born  under  the  fool 
star,  like  the  girl  in  the  play,  and  they  are  but 
doltish  notions  that  skip  out  of  my  head.  But  come ! 
There  is  Bradford  waving  his  glove  at  us.  They  are 
forming  for  a  country  dance.  May  I  have  you 
before  another  claims  you  ? " 

She  went  with  him,  at  once  bewildered  and  a  little 
hurt  by  his  change  of  manner,  but,  withal,  too  happy 
to  let  it  disturb  her  long,  and  as  they  took  their 
places  in  the  forming  line  her  face  was  radiant  again. 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  325 

Luya's  position  was  the  fourth  from  the  end  when 
the  lines  were  completed ;  but,  just  as  the  musicians 
were  giving  their  initial  flourish,  Miss  Boylston  came 
hurrying  up  on  the  arm  of  Mr.  Cornish,  and,  with 
the  scantiest  ceremony,  pushed  into  the  place  above 
Luya. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Boylston,"  Luya  said, 
after  an  instant's  hesitation,  and  bridling  as  she 
spoke,  "but  your  place  is  at  the  foot  of  the  line." 

"  Oh ! "  rejoined  Miss  Boylston,  with  easy  impu- 
dence, and  a  self-complacent  glance  about  her,  "I 
think  I  have  the  right  to  dance  before  Miss  Van- 
bergen." 

"  If  the  rule  that  estimates  a  woman,  as  we  do  a 
carrot,  by  the  length  of  root  she  has  underground, 
may  entitle  you  to  precedence  on  other  occasions,  it 
does  not  permit  you  to  push  ahead  of  me  in  a  dance 
already  begun.  Besides,  when  did  it  come  about  that 
a  Boylston  has  precedence  of  a  Vanbergen,  unless 
in  the  matter  of  impudence?" 

Though  Luya  spoke  in  a  tone  only  to  be  heard 
distinctly  by  Miss  Boylston,  it  was  evident  to  the 
others  that  the  ladies  were  at  a  misunderstanding, 
and  Miss  Boylston  left  no  further  doubt  of  its  nature 
in  her  angry  retort  upon  Luya. 

"  La,  Miss  Vanbergen,  if  you  think  I  am  not  enti- 
tled to  a  place  above  you,  you  may  appeal  to  the 
company." 


326  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

Luya  was  now  more  ashamed  of  her  part  in  the 
scene  than  angry  at  the  effrontery  of  Miss  Boylston ; 
but  the  general  attention  having  been  directed  to 
her  in  this  manner,  she  determined  to  maintain  her 
privilege. 

"  I  do  appeal  to  the  company,"  she  said,  "  if  a  lady 
may  choose  her  place  to  the  disadvantage  of  another 
after  a  dance  is  begun  ?  " 

The  head  couple  had  stopped  in  the  midst  of  the 
first  figure,  and  the  dance  was  waiting  the  settlement 
of  a  dispute  which  threatened  a  general  embarrass- 
ment. Several  of  those  about  her  graciously  offered 
to  convince  Miss  Boylston  that  the  convention  of  the 
ballroom  did  not  support  her  claim ;  but  the  lady, 
too  proud  to  yield  herself  defeated,  and  rather  more 
handsome  than  usual  for  her  heightened  temper, 
vowed  her  purpose  to  hold  a  place  to  which  she 
believed  herself  entitled,  though  protesting  that  she 
rather  would  have  died  than  be  the  occasion  to  such 
inconvenience,  could  she  have  foreseen  the  possibility 
of  her  rights  being  brought  into  question. 

Luya,  though  her  pride  smarted  under  the  affront, 
was  unwilling  to  sacrifice  the  pleasure  of  the  com- 
pany to  the  vindication  of  her  title  to  the  contested 
place.  Seeing  that  Miss  Boylston  was  to  prove 
unreasonable,  she  signalled  to  Wallace  her  wish  to 
retire,  a  signal  which  Miss  Boylston  noted  with  a 
sense  of  triumph.  But  this  triumph  was  succeeded 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  327 

by  vexation  and  an  angry  biting  of  the  supercilious 
upper  lip  when  Wallace,  having  offered  his  arm  to 
Luya,  said,  bowing  ceremoniously  about  him  : 

"I  consent  to  Miss  Vanbergen's  retirement  be- 
cause \  think  she  has  more  honour  in  yielding  than 
another  can  have  in  usurping  the  place  to  which 
Miss  Vanbergen  had  an  unquestionable  right." 

This  speech  was  balsam  to  Luya's  spirit,  and  she 
recovered  zest  enough  under  it  to  say,  with  a  smile 
that  was  almost  good-humoured  : 

"  I  hope  no  one  will  dance  any  the  less  merrily  for 
the  delay  you  have  had  in  beginning,  and  that  I  leave 
behind  me  no  more  ill-will  than  I  bear  away." 

The  incident  had  passed  so  quickly  and  quietly 
that  no  attention  was  attracted  to  it  from  beyond  the 
set,  and,  a  minute  after  Wallace  and  Luya  had  strolled 
away,  the  interrupted  dance  was  begun  again. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  big  guns  from  the  Fort 
boomed  out  with  a  shock  that  made  the  building 
tremble.  The  report  was  followed  by  another  and 
another,  so  rapidly  that  the  startled  assembly  was 
thrown  into  the  greatest  confusion.  Alarm  was  exag- 
gerated into  terror,  for  every  one  recognised  in  this 
ominous  roar  of  cannon  the  announcement  of  a  dan- 
ger or  a  disaster.  There  was  a  rush  for  the  doors 
and  the  windows,  men  and  women  in  equal  anxiety 
demanding  one  of  another  what  the  explosions  could 
mean.  Some  imagined  that  the  town  was  being 


328  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

attacked  by  the  war-ships  which  the  French  were 
supposed  to  have  despatched  to  avenge  the  fall  of 
Louisburg ;  others  that  the  town  was  again  at  the 
mercy  of  a  negro  uprising.  There  was  great  commo- 
tion in  the  streets,  too,  —  the  clatter  of  horses  being 
ridden  at  a  headlong  pace ;  the  clamour  of  men  and 
boys,  which  was  all  the  more  terrifying  because  the 
cries  were  indistinguishable.  Ladies  and  gentlemen 
ran  down  from  the  ballroom  into  the  streets,  vainly 
trying  to  gather  some  information  from  the  excited 
people  hurrying  to  and  fro.  To  the  demand,  "  Are 
we  being  attacked  ? "  came  some  ambiguous  reply, 
"  God  knows  who  is  being  attacked !  The  French 
have  gotten  England." 

But  after  the  three  guns,  the  cannon  were  silent, 
and  from  this  silence  the  people  took  courage.  How- 
ever grave  the  situation  that  could  warrant  this  alarm- 
ing of  the  town,  the  danger  was  not  immediate.  With 
this  confidence  came  more  cool-headed  inquiry  and 
more  intelligent  replies.  A  merchant-ship  had  just 
arrived  from  England,  and  the  captain  had  rowed  to 
shore,  bringing  to  the  Fort  the  news  of  a  great  calam- 
ity. The  English  army  had  been  utterly  defeated, 
annihilated  by  the  French  and  Scotch  forces,  led  by 
Prince  Charles  Edward,  the  Young  Pretender.  There 
had  been  a  veritable  massacre  of  English  troops  at 
Prestonpans,  and  the  young  prince  was  marching  his 
victorious  forces  against  London.  He  had  arrived 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  329 

within  thirty  miles  of  the  capital,  and,  as  the  king's 
armies  were  in  Flanders,  it  was  believed  the  city 
would  have  to  yield,  for  want  of  defenders.  The 
people  of  London  were  in  such  consternation  that 
the  banks  and  the  shops  were  left  unopened  Funds 
had  gone  down  ruinously  in  the  prospect  of  a  general 
bankruptcy.  It  was  thought  the  throne  must  needs 
fall  again  into  the  hands  of  a  Stuart,  an  event  which 
could  mean  nothing  less  than  that  the  French  were 
to  be  masters.  Indeed,  one  of  King  Louis's  very 
conditions  in  lending  support  to  the  prince  was  the 
ceding  to  the  French  of  three  English  ports,  and 
there  were  to  be  colonial  concessions  as  well.  Who 
could  say  but  New  York  itself  would  go  into  the 
measure  of  compensation  ?  Long  before  this,  no 
doubt,  the  question  was  decided,  and  the  next  vessel 
arriving  might  fetch  news  of  a  Stuart  installed  at  St. 
James's  Palace. 

This  story  was  told  to  the  excited  listeners  in  the 
ballroom  against  innumerable  interruptions  and  with 
a  multitude  of  stirring  details.  The  effect  upon  the 
merchants  varied  with  their  interests,  but  most  of 
them  were  stunned  by  the  magnitude  of  the  disaster, 
and  they  thought  with  dread  and  foreboding  of  to- 
morrow morning's  transactions  in  the  Exchange. 

Stephen  Waring  was  strangely  affected.  He  had 
listened  to  the  recital  with  strained  attention,  inter- 
posing no  questions,  making  no  comment,  his  intent 


33O  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

look  and  the  pallor  of  his  cheeks  giving  his  face  the 
appearance  of  a  mask.  But  he  was  murmuring  in  an 
inarticulate  monotone  that  scarcely  moved  his  lips, 
"  Funds  have  gone  to  nothing ;  funds  have  gone 
to  nothing ;  ruin ;  ruin !  "  He  stood  with  his  arm 
about  one  of  the  slender  supporting  columns  of  the 
room,  and  continued  standing  there  after  the  recital 
was  ended  and  the  rooms  began  clearing,  and  was 
standing  there  when  Luya  and  Wallace  came  by. 
On  seeing  Luya,  the  blood  came  back  into  his  face, 
and  his  eyes  sparkled  angrily. 

"  Oh,  you  come  to  laugh  at  me,  do  you  !  You  — 
you,  Miss  Vanbergen  !  You  think  I  am  under  the 
wheel,  eh  ?  You  think  this  will  finish  me  ?  So  it 
will  —  so  it  will !  Laugh,  laugh  !  I  shall  not  have 
a  farthing  in  the  world  this  time  to-morrow  night, 
no  doubt !  It  is  most  grotesque,  is  it  not,  Miss  Van- 
bergen ?  But  you  may  take  the  credit  of  my  ruin 
when  it  comes  !  I  laughed  at  your  imbecile  father 
when  he  turned  on  me  to  please  his  daughter.  I  was 
very  wrong,  Miss  Vanbergen,  and  it  is  your  turn  to 
laugh  now !  Laugh,  laugh !  I  could  laugh  with  you 
for  a  sixpence  !  " 

Luya  was  frightened,  not  so  much  by  the  dis- 
ordered speech  as  by  the  manner  of  Mr.  Waring, 
who  looked  at  her  with  fixed  eyes  as  if  quite  uncon- 
scious that  she  was  clinging  to  the  arm  of  his  son. 
He  seemed  not  to  see  Wallace  at  all. 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 


331 


"  You  are  much  mistaken ;  indeed,  you  are  much 
mistaken,  Mr.  Waring,"  Luya  said,  taking  a  step  or 
two  toward  him,  in  spite  of  her  fear.  "  I  know  not 
who  may  be  hurt  by  this  news  ;  but  I  hope  with  all 
my  heart  —  " 

"  I  know  —  I  know,"  Mr.  Waring  interrupted. 
"You'd  like  to  pity  me!  You'd  like  to  play  the 
Samaritan  !  You'd  like  to  pour  oil  in  my  wounds ! 
I  know !  Very  pretty !  There  is  a  saintly  sort  of 
devil  under  that  white  skin  of  yours,  down  behind 
those  blue  eyes  of  yours  !  But  I'm  not  on  the  rack 
yet.  Keep  your  sympathies  till  I  need  them,  and 
then  I  shall  not  be  mocked  by  them." 

Wallace  felt  a  grave  anxiety  on  his  father's 
account.  It  filled  him  with  a  vague  alarm  to  see 
him  there  motionlessly  holding  by  the  column  and 
pouring  out  this  incoherent  talk.  He  had  several 
times  addressed  Mr.  Waring  during  the  second  out- 
burst, without  once  attracting  a  glance  from  those 
fever-lighted  eyes,  and  he  now  took  him  gently  by 
the  arm. 

"  Come,  father,  you  are  not  yourself.  Let  me  help 
you  home." 

"  What  the  devil  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  If  I  had 
the  money  you  have  robbed  me  of  all  these  years, 
I  might  breast  this  gale  which  is  trying  to  blow  me 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth  !  " 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying,  father. 


332  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

Come  with  me.  Things  may  not  be  as  bad  as  first 
reports  have  made  them.  The  next  ship  in  may 
bring  better  news." 

"  And  if  it  should,  what  then  ?  Who  will  keep 
my  head  up  till  the  ship  comes  in?  And  what 
would  good  news  profit  me  unless  I  could  have  it 
in  advance  of  any  one  else  ?  Let  go  my  arm  !  If 
you  want  to  serve  me,  get  me  news  in  advance.  I'll 
give  you  a  thousand  pounds  an  hour  for  news  in 
advance  that  this  vagabond  prince  and  his  French 
mob  have  been  fed  to  the  crows  of  England.  That 
is  the  only  service  that  I  ask  of  you." 

Mr.  Waring  suddenly  let  go  the  column,  pushed 
Wallace  aside,  and  went  toward  the  door,  walking 
with  a  quick,  firm  step,  as  if  age  and  anxiety  had 
been  at  once  thrown  off. 

"Leave  me  —  go  with  him!"  Luya  pleaded  to 
Wallace,  in  a  nervously  excited  way,  and,  before  he 
could  answer,  she  ran  from  him  toward  Bradford, 
who  was  coming  to  seek  her. 

"  Take  me  home  !  "  she  cried. 

But  when,  making  his  way  through  the  crowd 
about  the  cloak-room,  he  had  at  last  got  her  mantle, 
she  said  : 

"I  want  to  see  the  sailor  who  brought  the  news. 
Take  me  to  find  him." 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

MR.  VANBERGEN  had  been  aroused  from  his  sleep 
by  the  noise  of  the  cannon,  and  was  standing  wonder- 
ingly  at  a  window,  debating  with  Mrs.  Vanbergen 
whether  he  should  dress  and  go  out  to  learn  the 
cause  of  the  unusual  disturbance.  After  half  an 
hour  of  indecision,  his  curiosity  was  getting  the 
better  of  his  disinclination,  and  he  had  begun  a 
leisurely  putting  on  of  his  garments  when  Jacob 
came  knocking  at  the  front  door. 

Mr.  Vanbergen  thrust  his  head  through  the  open 
window. 

"  Who  is  t'ere  ? " 

"Jacob." 

"Vat  is  t'e  trouples?" 

"  Bad  news  from  England." 

"  Vait  some  minutes.     I  let  you  in." 

In  a  few  minutes,  seated  in  the  great  kitchen  with 
the  shadows  mocking  at  the  single  candle-light,  Jacob 
was  telling  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanbergen  the  news  of 
the  war  and  the  commotion  it  had  occasioned  in  the 
town.  When  he  had  finished,  there  was  a  silence 
for  some  time.  Mr.  Vanbergen  went  to  the  chimney- 
333 


334  IN  OLD  NEW 

piece  and  took  down  his  pipe  and  tobacco.  He 
lighted  the  pipe  from  the  candle-flame  and  ruminat- 
ingly  puffed  at  it  a  dozen  or  twenty  times,  watching 
the  smoke  coil  up  to  the  rafters. 

"Veil,  I  tell  you  somet'ings,  Jacob.  Tis  a  pat 
news.  But  more  for  ot'er  people  as  for  us.  Ve  haf 
not  peen  in  some  speculations  in  t'e  Exchange  like 
some  of  our  frients.  Ve  haf  tone  pusiness  in  t'ings 
t'at  ve  coult  get  our  hants  on.  Ve  haf  not  bottert  vit 
stocks  and  funts  ant  t'em  foolishness.  Our  goots 
vill  keep.  Ve  may  haf  some  trouples  and  lose  some- 
t'ings, put  t'at  is  pusiness  chances  all  t'e  same.  It 
ton't  make  much  tifferences  vit  our  pusiness  vedder 
t'e  king  is  namet  George  or  Charlie  or  Louis.  T'e 
same  kint  of  rum  is  goot  to  trink  t'e  healt'  of  tiffer- 
ent  peoples.  T'e  vorlt  must  haf  topacco  ant  tea  ant 
pelts  ant  all  t'em  t'ings  t'at  ve  haf  to  gif  t'em.  If 
t'ey  ton't  vant  t'em  to-tay,  t'ey  vill  gif  more  for  t'em 
to-morrow.  Ve  hafn't  got  plenty  of  reasons  for  ex- 
citements, Jacob.  I  alvays  tolt  myself  I  vas  not 
a  fools  to  keep  avay  from  t'e  Exchange  ven  t'ey  puy 
ant  sell  some  t'ings  t'at  a'n't  not'ings.  Ven  I  puy 
somet'ing  you  can  veigh  it  ant  measure  it,  Jacob. 
Ven  I  gamples,  I  roll  t'e  powls  myself.  So  I  t'ink 
ve  sent  t'at  ship  to  Virginia  for  t'at  topacco  to-mor- 
row just  t'e  same  as  if  King  George  vas  on  t'e  t'rone. 
Put  I  am  sorry,  Jacob,  for  some  ot'er  peoples.  Some- 
poty  vill  haf  to  smoke  t'eir  pipes  vit'out  topacco.  I 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  335 

suppose  t'at  Mr.  Varing  vill  pe  one  of  t'em.  Veil, 
vife,  you  must  not  t'ink  t'at  I  am  an  unkint  fat'er 
ven  I  tell  you  t'at  I  am  sorry  for  Mr.  Varing,  too." 

"  How  can  you  have  such  an  idea,  Evert !  "  Mrs. 
Vanbergen  remonstrated.  "  Do  you  think  Luya  no 
better  Christian  than  a  Manhattan  ? " 

"  Oh,  ja,  Luya  is  goot  Christians.  Put  ven  a  man 
fools  vit  a  girl  in  love  —  "  Mr.  Vanbergen  suddenly 
remembered  Jacob's  feelings,  and,  in  his  momentary 
confusion,  sucked  at  the  flame  of  the  candle  to  light 
his  already  glowing  pipe. 

"But  what  if  the  bank  should  have  trouble?" 
Jacob  asked. 

"Oh,  t'en  ve  voult  haf  trouple,  too.  Put  Mr. 
Poylston  is  like  me,  Jacob,  —  a  very  careful  pusiness 
mans.  Ton't  haf  some  fears  apout  him.  He  vill 
manatge." 

Some  further  talk  was  interrupted  by  an  impera- 
tive knocking  at  the  door. 

"Tat's  Luya's  knockings,"  said  Mr.  Vanbergen, 
going  to  let  her  in. 

She  hurriedly  bade  Bradford  good  night  and  fol- 
lowed her  father  into  the  kitchen,  demanding  on  the 
way  if  he  had  heard  the  news. 

"  Ja  ;  Jacob  haf  tolt  me." 

"  Then  you  have  talked  the  matter  over.  What 
have  you  decided  to  do  ? " 

"Tecitet  to  to!"    Mr.  Vanbergen  exclaimed,  as 


336  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

they  entered  the  kitchen.  "  Ve  haf  tecitet  to  go  on 
vit  t'e  pusiness  joost  as  effer  !  Goot  cracious,  Luya, 
t'e  vorlt  haf  not  stopped  rolling  arount !  T'e  firm  of 
Vanbergen  ant  Vilbruch  haf  not  movet !  " 

"Father,  Mr.  Waring  will  need  help.  He  must 
not  be  allowed  to  go  down  if  we  can  prevent  it.  I 
want  you  to  do  me  a  favour,  the  greatest  possible 
favour.  I  want  you  to  save  Mr.  Waring." 

"  Save  Mr.  Varing !  Got  in  hemel,  Luya  !  Vat 
are  you  saying  !  How  can  I  safe  Mr.  Varing  ?  " 

"A  ship  was  to  sail  from  Portsmouth  four  days 
after  the  brig  that  came  in  to-night.  The  brig  lost 
two  days  in  crossing  —  so  that  in  two  days  we  may 
expect  more  news  from  England." 

"Ja,  Luya,  but  —  " 

"  Much  may  have  happened  in  the  four  days. 
The  news  we  have  may  be  exaggerated.  You  must 
help  Mr.  Waring  over  the  two  days  and  he  must  have 
the  next  news,  if  it  be  good  news,  in  advance  of 
any  one  else." 

"T'e  girls  is  mat!"  said  Mr.  Vanbergen,  sinking 
into  a  chair  and  looking  aghast  at  her  excited  face, 
which  appeared  to  him  spectral  in  the  scant  light. 

"  No,  I  am  not  mad,  father ;  but  I  have  a  plan  to 
save  Mr.  Waring  —  and  we  must  —  we  shall  save 
him.  You  have  a  vessel  ready  to  go  to  Virginia  in 
the  morning.  Well,  you  will  start  out  as  you  in- 
tended, and  as  if  you  were  going  to  Virginia,  but  you 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  337 

will  sail  to  meet  the  ship  coming  from  England.  You 
will  meet  her  as  far  out  as  possible.  You  know  the 
course  of  their  sailing.  You  will  get  her  news  and 
send  it  at  once — " 

"  Mat !  "  groaned  Mr.  Vanbergen.  "  Sent  t'e  news 
at  vonce  ! " 

"  Yes,  by  the  pigeons.  You  will  take  Hendrik's 
pigeons  with  you.  We  will  get  them  into  the  basket 
now,  and  I'll  arrange  a  cipher  for  the  message.  You 
will  send  off  the  first  pigeon  as  soon  as  you  have 
made  out  the  ship.  I  inquired  the  name.  It  is  the 
Hester.  Mr.  Bradford  and  I  hunted  down  the  captain 
of  the  brig,  who  gave  us  all  the  particulars,  so  there 
can  be  no  mistake.  She  is  a  fast  sailer.  She  can't 
be  far  out.  By  meeting  her  we  can  gain  a  day ;  we 
can  have  the  news  fifteen,  twenty  hours  in  advance 
of  any  one  else,  —  and  that  will  mean  a  fortune.  You 
will  go,  father  ;  you  will  do  this  for  me !  You'll  go  ! 
You'll  do  it !  Say  you  will  do  it !  " 

"  Vy,  Luya,  I  might  miss  t'at  topacco  crop  if  I  to 
t'at." 

"  And  make  ten  times  as  much  as  you  would  lose, 
—  for  you  could  use  the  news  as  well  as  Mr. 
Waring." 

"  But  if  t'e  news  vas  pat  news  ?  " 

"  It  will  not  be  bad  news  !  Something  tells  me  it 
will  be  good  news.  But,  good  news  or  bad  news,  if 
you  will  not  do  this  for  me,  I'll  find  a  means  for  my- 


338  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

self  to  come  at  the  end,  I  care  not  how  desperate 
soever  the  course ;  for  I  tell  you,  papa,  I  would  as 
lief  die  —  " 

"  Hemel  en  aarde,  Luya!"  Mr.  Vanbergen  cried 
out,  with  a  torrent  of  his  half -for  got  ten  Dutch,  and 
rising  to  catch  her  two  hands  in  his.  "  Haf  you 
t'ought  t'at  I  coult  refuse  you  ?  Ven  haf  I  effer  re- 
fuset  you  somet'ings  ?  No,  no,  Luya,  ton't  t'ink  t'at 
your  olt  fater  haf  lifet  so  long  to  refuse  you  somet'ings 
ven  he  loves  you  most.  T'ere,  t'ere,  you  see  your 
moeder  is  laughing  at  us  pehint  her  handkerchief! 
Ton't  you  peen  excitet,  Luya.  T'e  ship  shall  go  out 
at  sunrise.  I'll  go  vit  her  myself .  Ve'll  trust  nopoty 
vit  t'e  pusiness.  Ant  Jacob  vill  do  somet'ing  to  help 
Mr.  Varing  if  he  neets  it,  —  he,  Jacob  ?  And  if  I 
lose  somet'ings,  —  veil,  veil,  t'is  will  pay  me." 

Luya's  arms  were  about  his  neck,  her  cheek  pressed 
against  his,  and  half  laughing,  half  crying,  she  was 
saying  through  his  speech  : 

"  I  knew  you  would  do  it.  You  are  the  best  of 
fathers.  Dear  old  papa  !  I  would  not  trade  you  for 
all  the  world  !  " 

The  plans  were  quickly  arranged.  Vanbergen  was 
to  go  out  with  his  vessel  to  meet  the  incoming  ship, 
as  proposed  by  Luya,  and  Jacob  was  to  keep  a  close 
eye  on  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Waring  during  the  panic 
which  they  knew  to  be  inevitable.  If  Mr.  Waring 
gave  signs  of  falling  under  the  pressure,  Jacob  would 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 


339 


come  to  the  rescue  through  Harmsen,  —  for  Luya 
would  not  have  Waring  know  that  it  was  her  father 
from  whom  the  money  came,  —  but  Vanbergen  would 
not  consent  to  the  relief  exceeding  ^9,000.  That 
was  the  extent  of  his  money  in  bank,  and  that  was  to 
be  used  only  in  the  last  emergency. 

"If  t'at  vill  keep  Mr.  Varing  afloat,  he  may  haf 
it  ant  velcome.  Put  all  t'e  rest  of  my  money  is  in 
t'e  lant  t'at  Luya's  chiltren  must  puilt  t'eir  house 
on.  I  von't  let  trouples  come  to  t'at." 

Luya  prepared  a  simple  cipher  that  Mr.  Vanber- 
gen should  use  in  sending  the  message,  so  that  if 
mischance  should  throw  the  billet  into  strange  hands 
its  meaning  could  not  be  guessed.  She  kept  a  copy 
of  the  cryptograph  for  herself,  and  then  made  Mr. 
Vanbergen  experiment  with  a  pretended  message,  to 
be  sure  that  he  would  not  err  in  the  vital  use  of  the 
cipher. 

Jacob  climbed  the  ladder  to  the  pigeon-cote  to 
secure  the  birds  before  they  could  venture  forth  on 
a  day-dawn  excursion  ;  and,  while  the  light  was  yet 
gray  over  the  waters,  the  sails  of  Mr.  Vanbergen's 
little  ship  were  taking  up  the  breeze  from  the  land 
and  bellying  out;  toward  the  sea. 

Kissing  her  father  good-bye,  Luya  had  whispered 
in  his  ear,  "Don't  let  the  ship  slip  by  you  in  the 
night,  papa  !  Remember,  it  is  for  the  man  I  love." 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

LONG  before  the  hour  at  which  the  Exchange 
usually  opened  its  doors,  Broad  Street  was  a  scene 
of  active  excitement.  People  of  every  class  and  con- 
dition were  gathered  to  discuss  the  news  of  the  night 
before  and  compare  opinions  as  to  the  probable  result 
of  the  day's  transactions.  Daylight  gave  a  grim 
reality  to  the  gruesome  fears  of  the  night.  The 
waiting  for  those  doors  to  open  was  like  the  waiting 
for  the  order  to  begin  firing  along  a  line  of  battle. 
Those  who  had  no  personal  risk  in  the  financial  out- 
come of  the  impending  crisis  were  apparently  as  much 
perturbed  as  the  men  who  knew  that  the  next  few 
hours  were  to  make  or  break  their  fortunes.  That 
mysterious  telegraphy  which  operates  as  divination 
had  influenced  the  settlements  up  the  island  and 
across  the  river.  The  farmers  and  market  gardeners, 
coming  to  the  markets  with  their  stock  and  produce, 
drew  with  them  a  train  of  the  eagerly  curious  to  swell 
the  throng  of  town  people  in  the  streets.  Some  at- 
tempts were  made  to  restore  confidence  and  avert  a 
panic,  the  mayor  himself  speaking  very  sensibly  to 
340 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  341 

that  purpose  from  the  Exchange  steps.  They,  how- 
ever, who  were  to  profit  by  pessimistic  views,  took 
pains  to  have  it  seen  and  heard  that  their  fears 
were  not  allayed,  and  when  the  Exchange  was 
opened  pandemonium  rushed  in  to  take  possession 
of  it. 

Mr.  Waring,  though  still  under  a  high  nervous 
tension,  had  recovered,  to  a  great  extent,  from  the 
shock  of  his  first  fears.  He  went  into  the  fight 
courageously,  and  if  his  face  was  paler  than  usual,  he 
carried  his  head  more  proudly  erect.  He  had  called 
on  Mr.  Boylston  before  breakfast,  and  they  had 
gone  to  the  bank  together,  that  Mr.  Waring  might 
ascertain  to  a  certainty  the  amount  of  his  available 
credit. 

"  If  what  you  have  in  the  funds  could  be  drawn 
out,  you  might  stand  a  goodly  amount  of  battering, 
Waring." 

"  For  how  much  beyond  my  cash  account  will  my 
cheque  be  honoured  ?  " 

"  That  must  depend  on  the  quotations.  If  things 
go  as  badly  as  they  promise  to,  I'm  afraid —  " 

"  I  mean  how  large  a  loan  can  I  negotiate  ? " 

"  At  this  juncture,  Waring,  I  dare  not  make  any 
advance  beyond  the  third  of  the  actual  value  of  the 
best  securities." 

"Name  a  figure." 

After  a  little  hesitation,  Mr.  Boylston  made  a  com- 


342  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

putation  and  pushed  the  paper  across  the  table  to 
Mr.  Waring,  who  glanced  at  the  figures,  not  very 
well  pleased. 

"  Humph !  And  how  large  a  personal  loan  will 
you  make  ? " 

"  My  dear  Waring,"  said  Mr.  Boylston,  shifting 
his  position  uneasily,  and  rumpling  the  feather  of 
his  pen  against  his  nose  in  a  deliberative  way,  "  you 
and  I  have  had  one  or  two  private  talks,  somewhat 
of  a  family  character,  and  I  think  you  found  me 
rather  inclined  to  —  " 

"  Confound  it,  Boylston,  'tis  no  fault  of  mine  if 
I  have  a  fool  for  a  son.  'Tis  not  a  time  now  to 
reproach  me  with  the  fact.  How  much  money  will 
you  lend  me  ?  " 

"  Less  than  I  might  have  lent  to  the  father-in-law 
of  my  daughter,  Waring.  I  cannot  put  my  bank  in 
peril  by  private  loans  at  the  very  minute  I  must 
expect  to  meet  the  demands  of  a  thousand  frightened 
depositors.  It's  a  pity  that  you  have  meddled  in 
stocks." 

"  How  much  money  will  you*  lend  me  ? " 

"  An  extra  third  on  your  securities." 

"  No  more  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Waring  —  " 

"  Very  well ;  I  shall  ask  you  to  indorse  five 
cheques  covering  the  entire  amount  of  my  credit." 

"I    hope   you   will   consider,  Waring,  that   I    am 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  343 

merely  protecting  the  general  interests  of  my  clients, 
yours  among  the  rest." 

"  Can  we  arrange  the  matter  now  ?  Or  must  I 
wait  for  banking  hours  with  the  others  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Waring,  I  see  you  are  in  temper.  We 
can  arrange  the  matter  now.  I  am  most  willing  to 
oblige  you.  And  I  do  not  see  that  you  have  great 
reason  to  complain.  With  this  amount  in  hand  you 
should  be  able  to  fight  through  a  very  stormy  day." 

That  was  the  courage  Mr.  Waring  took  into  the 
bedlam  of  the  Exchange,  and  with  which  he  under- 
took to  protect  his  threatened  fortune.  Speculation 
of  every  description  had  run  so  high  in  the  steadily 
increasing  prosperity  of  the  city  during  the  past  two 
or  three  years  that  it  had  drawn  most  of  the  regular 
merchants  into  its  treacherous  swirl,  and  many  of 
them  were  in  as  great  peril  of  the  suddenly  created 
vortex  as  was  Mr.  Waring  himself.  Invested  inter- 
ests had  to  be  protected  at  all  hazards,  and  men  of 
staid  demeanour  on  ordinary  occasions  were  conduct- 
ing themselves  like  madmen  in  the  confused  babel. 

Wallace,  who  had  expected  to  see  his  father  one 
of  the  most  frenzied  of  the  number,  and  had  gone  to 
the  Exchange  with  the  gravest  apprehensions,  was 
amazed  at  the  calmness  and  decision  of  Mr.  Waring' s 
manner  in  meeting  each  demand  of  the  falling  prices. 
He  had  never  seemed  more  cool  and  self-assured, 
more  entirely  master  of  himself.  It  was  as  if  he 


344  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

were  following  a  winning  game  and  saw  clearly  the 
successful  outcome  of  every  chance  before  him. 
Wallace  felt  a  new  admiration  of  his  father  expand- 
ing his  heart.  He  wished  that  the  struggle  were  a 
thing  of  force  against  force  that  he  might  beat  a  way 
through  to  his  father's  side  and  fight  with  him  the 
desperate  battle  against  overwhelming  odds.  Tears 
came  into  his  eyes  at  the  thought  of  his  powerless- 
ness  to  go  to  the  rescue  of  the  man  who,  he  believed, 
was  sustained  in  that  seeming  dauntlessness  by  pride 
alone. 

Jacob,  from  his  side  of  the  room  watching  the  con- 
duct of  Mr.  Waring,  was  no  less  surprised  than  Wal- 
lace by  the  air  of  assurance  in  the  upright  bearing 
and  passionless  face,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
Luya  had  been  mightily  deceived  as  to  Mr.  Waring' s 
necessities. 

But  the  admiration  of  the  one  was  as  ill-founded 
as  the  judgment  of  the  other;  for  Stephen  Waring 
had  made  a  compact  with  himself  before  going  to 
his  troubled  sleep  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

ACROSS  the  way  from  the  Exchange  was  the 
King's  Head  Tavern,  and  Peters,  the  landlord,  reck- 
oned the  last  two  days  the  best  in  the  money-taking 
history  of  the  hostel.  Very  well  content  was  Peters, 
and  he  cared  not  a  jot  how  long  the  pother  over  the 
way  might  continue  if  the  excitement  but  kept  his 
taps  and  spigots  busy.  If  one  man's  meat  was  by 
nature  another  man's  poison,  he  thought  it  very 
proper  that  the  breaking  of  fortunes  in  the  Exchange 
should  lead  to  the  cracking  of  bottles  in  his  bar  and 
parlours,  and  so  to  the  speedier  filling  of  the  strong- 
box he  believed  to  be  trustier  than  any  merchant's 
bank. 

It  was  drawing  near  to  closing  time  in  the  second 
day  of  the  unabated  disorder  on  'Change.  Mr. 
Peters  was  sitting  complacently  on  the  porch  of  his 
tavern,  talking  in  a  carelessly  argumentative  way 
with  Mr.  Benton,  one  of  the  city's  patriarchs,  and 
Jem  Colson,  boatswain  and  recruiter  to  a  privateer 
that  was  now  in  need  of  men.  The  November 
weather  had  in  it  the  mild,  fresh  tonic  of  spring. 

"My  opinion,"  Peters  was  saying,  "is  this :  Them 
345 


346  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

as  stirs  up  hornets  shouldn't  complain  of  the  sting. 
And  that's  the  opinion  I  hold  to,  neighbour." 

"Ay,  ay,  mate;  and  I  ship  under  your  colours," 
declared  Jem  Colson,  refreshing  himself  from  a  deep 
tankard. 

"  Keep  to  your  opinion,  Mr.  Peters,"  retorted  Mr. 
Benton,  with  quiet  obstinacy,  "  and  you,  too,  boat- 
swain Colson.  But  I  have  a  mind  to  my  own  way 
of  thinking ;  and  it's  my  opinion  that  the  law  ought 
to  put  a  stop  to  that,"  shaking  his  thin  finger  at  the 
Exchange,  through  the  doors  of  which  men  were 
hurrying  in  and  out  at  intervals.  "  It  ought  to  be 
put  a  stop  to  before  our  best  men  are  brought  to 
ruin  by  it.  The  way  things  have  been  going  on  in 
there  for  the  last  two  days  is  a  scandal  to  heaven, 
and  that's  my  opinion." 

"  Well,"  said  Peters,  "  I  think  as  trade  is  trade, 
and  that  stock  gambling,  as  you  call  it,  is  as  good 
a  trade  as  any,  and  quite  a  gentlemanly  way  to  make 
or  lose  a  fortune." 

"  Ay,  ay,  mate ;  and  the  quickest  way  to  find 
your  bearings  in  stormy  weather." 

"  As  for  them  as  suffers,  —  one  man's  loss  is  some 
other  man's  gain." 

"  But  breaking  down  business,  Mr.  Peters,  and 
filling  the  debtors'  prison  and  spoiling  reputations 
don't  gain  much  to  the  community,  I'm  thinking." 

"Jailors  must  live  as  well  as  the  best  of  us,  mate." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  347 

"  Five  failures  in  forty-eight  hours,  and  the  Lord 
knows  how  many  more  to  come ! "  Mr.  Benton  con- 
tinued irascibly.  "  Tis  monstrous,  Mr.  Peters  !  And 
all  for  what  ?  For  any  reason  that  anybody  knows 
on  ?  Zut !  All  for  news  of  a  battle  that  like  enough 
never  occurred ! " 

"Never  occurred!"  demanded  Peters,  in  surprise. 
Then,  wagging  his  head  contentedly,  he  added,  with 
a  leer  at  Colson,  "  Whether  it  did  occur  or  did  not 
occur,  neighbour,  I'm  getting  sixpence  the  more  to 
a  pint  of  rum  for  it." 

"Ay,  and  there's  the  injustice  of  it,"  declared 
Colson,  taking  no  account  of  the  amiable  leer. 

"There  goes  old  Harmsen's  clerk,"  said  Mr.  Ben- 
ton,  pointing,  "  looking  worried  enough,  I'm  thinking. 
They  say  that  Harmsen's  firm  is  bound  to  go  down, 
and  that  it's  a  miracle  he  has  held  out  so  long." 

"  I'm  not  so  sorry  for  Harmsen,"  Peters  asserted, 
"  for  he  has  been  but  a  close  curmudgeon.  But  I'm 
sorry  for  Mr.  Stephen  Waring  that's  wound  up  with 
him,  —  and  young  Mr.  Waring  has  always  spent  his 
money  freely.  I'm  always  sorry  when  a  liberal  gen- 
tleman comes  to  the  end  of  his  leather." 

"  You  may  well  say  end  of  his  leather,  for  I  heard 
the  recorder  say  at  noon  this  very  day  that  Mr. 
Waring  had  given  a  judgment  mortgage  on  his  estate 
for  a  quarter  of  its  value.  That  shows  where  he  is 
headed  for." 


348  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Straight  for  Davy  Jones's  locker,  mate,  —  and 
plenty  of  good  company  he'll  find  there,  too." 

"Well,  there  comes  a  lass  whose  father  will  be 
none  the  worse  for  King  George's  going  without  a 
crown,  I  warrant  you,"  said  Peters,  nodding  his  head 
toward  the  right. 

"  No,"  agreed  Mr.  Benton,  with  a  click  of  the 
throat  that  expressed  his  approval  of  one  thing  and 
his  contempt  of  another,  "  Evert  Vanbergen  isn't  fool 
enough  to  play  ducks  and  drakes  with  his  money  in 
that  way,"  indicating  the  Exchange  with  a  renounc- 
ing sweep  of  the  hand. 

"She's  as  neat  and  well -rigged  a  craft  as  ever 
steered  course  on  land!"  asserted  Colson,  with  an 
emphasis  that  seemed  to  challenge  denial. 

Mr.  Benton  arose  to  his  feet  creaking! y,  as  Luya 
came  rapidly  down  Broad  Street,  and  made  a  rever- 
ential bow  as  she  approached.  The  old  fellow  felt  a 
responsible  pride  in  Luya,  having  saved  her  from 
a  tumble  off  one  of  the  wharves  when  she  was  a 
chubby  fay  of  six.  To  have  kept  her  from  going  out 
of  the  world  was  much  the  same  thing  as  having 
brought  her  intov  the  world,  in  his  logic ;  he  accord- 
ingly assumed  the  right  to  pass  the  time  of  day  with 
her  whenever  chance  brought  her  into  his  sunshine. 
Seeing  that  Luya's  face  was  wan  and  troubled,  Mr. 
Benton  came  down  the  steps  to  meet  her  as  she 
passed. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  349 

"Ah,  Miss  Luya,  what  have  you  done  with  the 
face  we  all  love  ?  Where  are  your  smiles  to-day  ? " 

"  Mr.  Benton,"  she  said,  eagerly,  "  I'm  glad  to  find 
you  here.  You  may  do  me  a  service,"  taking  him 
by  the  arm  and  drawing  him  along  with  her.  "I 
wish  Mr.  Wilbruch  called  from  the  Exchange'.  I 
must  speak  with  him.  Can  you  get  word  to  him 
for  me  ?  Would  they  let  you  on  to  the  floor  ?  " 

"  Wait,  wait,  Miss  Luya ;  not  so  fast !  Mr.  Wil- 
bruch is  not  there." 

"Not  there ! " 

"  He  went  away  ten  minutes  ago.  I  know,  be- 
cause I  spoke  to  him.  He  has  gone  home,  as  the 
business  of  that  thing  there  is  about  done  for  the 
day.  I  think  I  heard  the  closing  bell  ring  just  now. 
If  you  want  to  see  Mr.  Wilbruch  — ' 

"  I  do  want  to  see  him.  I  must  see  him  !  But 
have  you  heard,  Mr.  Benton,  how  affairs  have  gone 
to-day  ?  Do  you  know  if  any  one  —  if  Mr.  Waring, 
Mr.  Stephen  Waring  —  " 

"  I  know  he  is  in  a  bad  way,  Miss  Luya,"  Mr. 
Benton  interrupted. 

"  But  not  yet  beaten  down  ? " 

"  No  ;  I  asked  Mr.  Wilbruch  that.  He  is  safe  for 
to-day;  but  to-morrow  — "  Mr.  Benton  completed 
the  sentence  with  an  ominous  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  want  to  look  into  Mr.  Waring's  face.  Can  we 
stand  there  on  the  steps  and  watch  them  come  out  ? " 


35O  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

She  said  this  very  strangely,  it  seemed  to  Mr. 
Benton,  and  he  was  disturbed  by  her  restless,  ner- 
vous manner. 

"Yes,  we  could  see  them  come  out,"  he  answered, 
warily.  "  But  I  think  you'd  best  not  stop.  You 
don't  seem  to  me  to  be  well,  Miss  Luya." 

"I  am  well,  very  well.  Let  us  stand  here.  He 
could  not  pass  without  my  seeing  him.  I  want  to 
look  into  his  face." 

She  was  talking  to  herself  rather  than  to  Mr. 
Benton,  and  seemed  not  to  listen  to  his  answers. 
She  stood  beside  one  of  the  columns  in  a  position  to 
command  the  doors,  on  which  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed, 
as  if  in  a  moment  of  unwatchfulness  they  might  open 
to  let  some  one  slip  by  unperceived.  While  she  stood 
thus,  hearing  without  heeding  the  garrulity  of  her 
companion,  a  boy  came  up  to  her  and  held  out  a 
card. 

"  For  you,  miss." 

A  lady  looking  from  the  window  of  a  sedan-chair 
at  the  corner  smiled  as  she  saw  Luya  take  the  card, 
and  ordered  her  chair-men  to  go  on  their  way  up 
Broad  Street. 

Luya  looked  at  the  card,  on  which  there  was  but  a 
line  in  pencil. 


"  Claudine   Lambert    has   disappeared   from   town.      Ask 
Wallace  Waring  why." 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  351 

She  read  the  words  without  seeming  to  catch  their 
meaning,  her  mind  being  too  greatly  occupied  by  the 
thought  that  kept  her  attention  fixed  on  the  scene 
which  was  passing  behind  those  closed  doors,  and 
which  she  saw  in  spite  of  the  doors.  And  when, 
presently,  they  were  flung  open  and  the  excited 
crowd  surged  noisily  out,  the  card  was  crushed, 
forgotten,  in  the  feverishly  clenched  hand,  and  she 
strained  forward  to  see  the  one  pale,  haunting  face 
of  her  fears. 

Mr.  Waring  was  among  the  last  to  come  out.  His 
face  was  more  haggard  for  the  two  days'  ordeal, 
but  his  head  was  as  proudly  erect  as  before,  and 
there  was  even  the  faint  outline  of  a  smile  upon  his 
lips. 

"  It  is  there  !  It  is  true,  then  !  "  Luya  spoke  the 
words  in  the  awed,  hushed  whisper  of  one  looking  at 
a  spectre,  and  Mr.  Benton,  betrayed  by  her  intensity, 
asked,  in  a  frightened  undertone  : 

"  What  is  there  ?     What  is  true  ? " 

As  Mr.  Waring  passed  her,  going  down  the  steps, 
some  one  said  to  him  : 

"  Well,  Waring,  you  still  have  a  fighting  chance 
left  for  to-morrow,  you  may  thank  God  !  " 

"It  is  hardly  worth  the  taking,"  Mr.  Waring 
answered,  looking  around  at  the  merchant  curi- 
ously. 

"  It  is  worth  the  taking,  Mr.  Waring !  "  Luya  cried 


352  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

out,  earnestly.  "  Your  turn  may  come  to-morrow. 
Help  may  come  in  the  night.  Fight,  Mr.  Waring, 
fight!" 

He  lifted  his  hat,  but  neither  bowed  nor  looked  in 
her  direction,  and  went  on  down  the  steps. 

"  You  are  sure  Mr.  Wilbruch  went  home  ? "  she 
demanded  of  Mr.  Benton. 

"That  is  where  he  said  he  was  going." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kindness,  Mr.  Benton.  Good 
day." 

She  ran  down  the  steps,  and,  at  a  quick  walk, 
went  up  Broad  Street,  but,  instead  of  turning  to 
the  left,  toward  home,  she  went  along  Prince  Street 
to  Smith  Street,  and  took  the  direction  toward 
Golden  Hill.  She  looked  about  for  a  chair,  willing 
to  escape  the  walk,  but  there  was  none  in  sight. 
Passing  King  Street,  she  saw  one  standing  in  front 
of  a  mercer's,  and  was  about  to  signal  to  the  chair- 
man when  she  recognised  it  for  Miss  Boylston's,  and 
saw  that  lady  in  the  act  of  quitting  the  shop  to 
return  to  the  chair.  Miss  Boylston  also  caught  sight 
of  Luya,  wondered  to  see  her  so  much  in  haste,  and 
concluded  that  the  visit  to  this  neighbourhood  was 
in  some  way  inspired  by  the  card  she  had  sent  to 
Luya  a  few  minutes  before. 

"Keep  that  person  in  view,"  she  commanded  the 
head  chair-man,  and  took  her  seat  in  the  chair,  half 
inclined  to  wager  with  one  of  the  porters  that  she 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  353 

could  describe  in  advance  the  house  at  which  the 
"  person  "  would  stop. 

"  If  you  please,  madam,"  said  the  chair-man,  after 
a  time,  "the  lady  has  entered  the  gabled  house  in 
Queen  Street." 

"  What  lady  ?  "  demanded  Miss  Boylston,  affecting 
the  greatest  surprise. 

"  The  lady  madam  bade  me  keep  in  view." 

"I  bade  you  keep  no  lady  in  view,  blockhead! 
I  gave  you  direction  home!  Whither  have  you 
brought  me  ?  If  you  want  to  escape  a  punishment, 
make  haste  enough  to  correct  your  blunder."  Then, 
settling  back  and  smiling  in  satisfaction,  she  said  to 
herself,  "  So !  Miss  Vanbergen  comes  alone  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Wilbruch !  How  fortunate  that  I 
should  have  made  the  discovery !  This  will  serve 
much  better  than  the  Lambert  episode,  I'll  go  bail." 

Arriving  home,  Miss  Boylston  spent  a  pleasant 
half-hour  fashioning  a  note  in  a  writing  that  should 
have  no  trace  of  her  hand,  and  succeeded  quite  to 
her  satisfaction,  after  a  few  experimental  courses. 
She  flattered  herself,  too,  on  the  ingenuity  of  the 
verbal  arrangement,  which  conveyed  the  proper  in- 
formation without  resort  to  accusation. 

"  Would  it  interest  Mr.  Wallace  Waring  to  learn  that  a 
young  lady  of  his  acquaintance  pays  private  visits  to  a  gentle- 
man living  as  a  bachelor  in  Queen  Street?  If  so,  he  may 
inquire  the  particulars  of —  the  lady  least  likely  to  confess  a 


354  IN  OLD  MEW  YORK. 

knowledge  of  them.  If  Mr.  Waring  would  have  a  hint  of  the 
lady's  name,  he  need  but  look  near  the  end  of  the  alphabet  to 
find  it." 

Folding  the  paper  and  sealing  it,  she  addressed  it 
in  large  characters  to  Wallace,  and  despatched  it  to 
the  inn  by  her  confidential  maid,  who  was  to  fling 
it,  unobserved,  into  the  entry. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

"  Is  Mr.  Wilbruch  at  home  ? "  Luya  asked,  anx- 
iously, of  the  old  housekeeper  who  opened  the  door  to 
her. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Luya." 

"  Show  me  into  the  parlour  and  have  him  come  at 
once." 

Jacob  called  from  above  stairs  on  hearing  voices  in 
his  hall : 

"What  is  it,  Mrs.  Leonard?" 

"  A  lady,  —  Miss  Luya,  to  see  you." 

Jacob  came  down  the  stairs  two  at  a  time,  agitated 
by  a  fear  that  some  evil  had  befallen  the  family.  He 
entered  the  room,  obscure  in  the  fading  light  of  a 
single  uncurtained  window,  incredulous  that  it  really 
was  Luya  seated  there. 

"  What  has  happened,  Luya  ? " 

"Oh,  Jacob,  one  of  the  pigeons  has  come  back 
without  a  message!" 

"  Without  a  message  ?  Well,  that's  not  as  bad  as 
I  feared.  It  is  strange,  though." 

"  It  is  ominous,  Jacob.  It  means  that  the  news 
is  bad." 

355 


356  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  No ;  it  doesn't  mean  that,  —  for  the  first  pigeon 
was  to  be  sent  when  the  ship  was  sighted.  The 
second  pigeon  was  to  bring  the  news  — " 

Luya  broke  in  upon  his  speech,  her  words  coming 
hurriedly,  as  if  she  were  eager  to  say  many  things  at 
once. 

"  But  we  were  to  know  by  the  first  pigeon  how 
far  out  they  were,  and  when  we  could  expect  the 
second  message.  We  can  tell  nothing  about  it  now. 
We  cannot  tell  from  what  distance  the  pigeon  came, 
and  so  we  cannot  estimate  when  the  ship  will  come 
in.  And,  then,  who  can  say  if  the  pigeon  didn't 
escape  ?  The  ship  may  not  even  have  been  sighted 
yet.  And  the  Exchange  is  closed  —  and  the  long 
night  is  before  us  —  and  it  may  happen  —  and  if  it 
should  happen,  I  think  I  must  die  —  for  it  would 
have  been  my  doing  —  it  would  be  the  same  as  if  I 
had  done  it  —  ah  !  it  was  my  doing  —  " 

She  was  cowering  down  in  a  great  armchair,  and 
gave  free  vent  to  her  overcharged  feelings,  her  face 
hidden  in  her  hands,  her  body  swaying  from  side  to 
side  as  she  sobbed.  Jacob  bent  over  her  in  trembling 
alarm  to  question  her.  He  had  never  seen  her 
affected  like  this.  He  took  hold  of  her  hands  to 
draw  them  from  her  face,  and,  feeling  them  wet  with 
her  tears,  he  let  them  go  again,  fearing  to  profane  a 
grief  he  did  not  know  how  to  console.  He  would 
have  rung  the  bell  for  Mrs.  Leonard,  but  she  begged 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  357 

him  not  to  do  it,  saying  she  would  be  calm  in  a 
moment,  that  it  would  do  her  a  world  of  good  to 
weep,  and  that  she  could  talk  to  him  all  the  better 
after.  He  stood  there  waiting,  now  and  then  put- 
ting his  hand  lightly  on  her  head  to  smooth  over 
her  hair,  reminding  her  of  his  presence,  but  pa- 
tient that  she  should  speak  when  it  seemed  to  her 
best. 

The  sobs  ceased  at  last,  and  presently  she  lifted 
her  head.  Drying  her  eyes,  she  said : 

"  I  have  suffered  such  a  shock,  Jacob  ! " 

"You  are  letting  anxiety  make  you  ill,  Luya. 
You  are  tormenting  yourself  with  groundless 
fears  —  " 

"  No,  no ;  not  groundless  fears,  —  they  are  terri- 
ble forebodings;  for  I  have  had  a  forewarning, 
Jacob,  —  a  forewarning  of  such  horrible  reality  that  I 
thought  I  should  have  died  under  it.  I'll  tell  you, 
Jacob.  You  may  call  it  a  dream,  —  but  it  was  no 
dream,  it  was  a  vision,  a  prophecy  !  No  dream  was 
ever  like  it.  It  was  this  afternoon.  I  was  lying  on 
the  lounge  in  my  sitting-room,  in  a  waking  dream,  — 
for  I  was  not  asleep,  —  when,  suddenly,  like  the 
blowing  out  of  a  light,  the  sunlight  vanished  and  the 
stars  appeared.  I  wasn't  asleep,  for  I  felt  frightened 
by  the  suddenness  of  the  change  and  went  to  open 
the  window  to  look  out.  I  raised  the  window,  but, 
instead  of  the  night  and  the  open  air,  I  looked  into  a 


358  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

lighted  room,  a  strange  room,  with  a  great  canopied 
bed  in  one  corner,  and  opposite  it  a  curious,  low 
dressing-table  with  a  tall,  wide  mirror  over  it.  There 
was  a  man  with  his  coat  off,  sitting  with  his  back  to 
me,  writing  at  a  table.  He  got  up  to  go  to  a  small 
desk,  which  he  unlocked,  and  took  a  packet  from  a 
drawer.  When  he  turned,  I  saw  his  face  distinctly. 
It  was  Mr.  Waring.  A  hunted,  desperate  face,  but 
pale  and  calm,  in  spite  of  it,  and  upon  his  lips  the 
strangest  shadow  of  a  smile.  He  put  the  packet  on 
the  table  where  he  had  been  writing,  and  I  remember 
as  a  curious  thing  that  he  struck  on  it  three  times 
with  the  back  of  his  fingers  as  it  lay  there.  Walking 
toward  the  dressing-table,  he  took  off  his  waistcoat 
and  threw  it  into  a  chair,  and  then,  standing  before 
the  mirror,  he  removed  his  neckcloth  and  unfastened 
his  shirt.  He  picked  up  a  small,  flat  case  and  took 
from  it  —  Oh  !  I  see  it  all  again  !  I  see  him  stand- 
ing there,  looking  into  his  own  eyes,  that  gleam  as 
bright  as  the  steel  blade  in  his  hand !  I  see  him 
bare  his  throat  and  run  his  fingers  over  it,  laughing 
a  mocking  laugh  that  chills  me !  I  see  him  raise  the 
knife  —  Horrible,  horrible !  " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  much 
terrorised  by  the  picture  of  her  fancy  as  she  could 
have  been  by  the  tragic  reality.  Jacob,  fearing  a  re- 
currence of  that  paroxysm  of  weeping  and  self- 
condemnation,  put  his  arm  about  her,  kneeling 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  359 

by  her  side,  and  spoke  to  her  gently  but  command- 
ingly. 

"  You  must  not  have  these  thoughts,  Luya.  Your 
own  fears  made  the  dream.  Mr.  Waring  is  not  a 
man  to  kill  himself  —  " 

"  Oh !  you  don't  know  —  you  don't  know  !  And  I 
tell  you  it  was  not  a  dream.  Dreams  are  not  like 
that.  I  was  carried  out  of  myself.  They  found  me, 
mamma  and  Hendrik,  lying  on  the  floor  like  one 
dead.  They  were  a  long  time  bringing  me  to  myself. 
I  did  not  tell  them  what  I  had  seen,  but  I  went  at 
once  to  the  Exchange.  I  saw  Mr.  Waring  —  it  was 
the  face  of  the  vision,  —  haunted,  desperate,  mocking, 
with  that  same  strange  shadow  of  a  smile,  —  the  face 
of  a  man  who  would  think  it  better  to  die  than  endure 
the  disgrace  of  a  failure,  —  pride  and  physical  cour- 
age, but  moral  weakness.  I  called  out  to  him.  I 
could  not  help  it,  —  I  felt  that  I  must.  And,  Jacob, 
the  money  that  my  father  left  —  the  cheque  —  you 
have  not  used  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  gave  it  to  Harmsen.  It  was  that  that  en- 
abled Mr.  Waring  to  get  through  the  day." 

"  He  has  had  the  full  amount  ?  " 

"The  full  amount." 

"  And  you  have  no  more  money  ? " 

"  None  that  I  am  authorised  to  use." 

"  But  you  have  some  ? " 

"  I  have  your  father's  order  on  Mr.  Boylston,  telling 


360  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

him  to  honour  my  cheque  for  whatever  sum  he  will 
advance  on  the  firm's  credit  — 

"Then  you  can  help  Mr.  Waring?" 

Jacob  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  only  to  use  the  order  if  the  message  your 
father  sends  is  favourable." 

"And  you  can  use  it  as  you  please?" 

Jacob  made  no  answer. 

"  You  can  use  it  as  you  please,  Jacob  ? " 

"  I  must  use  it  as  your  father  has  instructed  me, 
Luya." 

"  It  is  your  money  as  much  as  it  is  my  father's. 
You  can  use  your  own  as  you  will." 

"Whatever  is  mine  is  yours,  Luya,  to  do  with  as 
you  will.  I  cannot  misapply  your  father's  money; 
but  I'll  draw  a  cheque  for  the  amount  that  I  have 
invested  in  the  business.  Mr.  Waring  shall  have  that, 
—  all  that  I  have ;  but,  without  news  to  steady  the 
market,  it  won't  go  far." 

"Ah,  I  don't  mean  that  you  shall  sacrifice  your- 
self, Jacob !  And  if  good  news  comes  it  will  be  no 
sacrifice,  it  will  be  a  service  that  can  be  repaid.  And 
you  will  do  it  ?  Mr.  Waring  shall  have  the  money  if 
a  favourable  message  comes  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  no  way  to  thank  you.  How  could  one 
thank  a  man  like  you  ?  It  would  be  like  thanking 
the  rain  or  the  sunshine.  I  am  going  home  now." 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  361 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  "  You  will  go  with 
me  ?  The  other  pigeon  may  have  come,  —  and  Mr. 
Waring  could  have  the  message  before  nightfall.  I 
should  be  happier  if  he  could  have  it  before  nightfall. 
I  have  a  dread  of  the  night." 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

MRS.  VANBERGEN,  complaining  of  an  indisposition, 
went  early  to  bed,  counselling  Luya  to  follow  the 
example.  They  had  all  gone  up  to  Luya's  sitting- 
room  after  supper,  because  its  window  looked  out  on 
the  pigeon-cote  twelve  feet  away. 

"There  is  no  earthly  use  your  waiting  into  the 
night.  It  is  as  dark  as  Egypt,  and  you  can't  expect 
a  pigeon  to  fly  when  he  cannot  see  the  length  of  your 
hand  in  front  of  his  face." 

"Yes,  mamma,  but  pigeons  do  fly  in  the  night," 
Hendrik  asserted,  with  decision. 

"Not  if  they  can  find  a  place  to  roost,  I  think, 
Master  Hendrik,"  said  his  mother,  amused  by  his 
superior  air. 

"What  do  you  think,  Jacob?"  Luya  asked,  when 
Mrs.  Vanbergen  had  retired.  "  Can  the  message 
come  to-night  ? " 

Jacob  had  been  considering  the  matter  very  cir- 
cumstantially since  supper,  and  had  elaborated  a 
theory  that  was  really  in  fair  accord  with  the  facts. 

"My  idea  is  this.  Your  father  sighted  the  ship 
and  made  her  out.  Then  he  wrote  his  message  and 
362 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  363 

got  out  one  of  the  pigeons  to  send  it,  and  the  pigeon 
escaped.  It  came  directly  home,  getting  here  an 
hour  before  sundown.  I  reckon  that  your  father 
must  be  from  three  hundred  and  fifty  to  four  hun- 
dred miles  from  shore.  It  would  take  a  pigeon 
between  four  and  five  hours  to  fly  the  distance. 
Well,  suppose  the  second  pigeon  was  started  an 
hour  after  the  first  one  flew  away.  That  would 
allow  it  only  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half  of 
daylight ;  it  reached  land  in  the  darkness  and,  no 
doubt,  stopped  in  the  first  tree  it  came  to." 

"You  think  that!  And  Arrow  may  be  at  roost 
within  a  few  miles  of  us  !  " 

"Yes." 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  too  cruel  a  mockery !  " 

"  But  the  moon  is  at  its  full  to-night,  and  if  the 
sky  keeps  clear  till  it  rises,  the  pigeon  may  take 
advantage  of  the  light  to  continue  its  flight  home. 
Pigeons  will  not  roost  abroad  if  they  can  find  their 
way  home." 

"  And  when  does  the  moon  rise  ? " 

"  Not  until  after  twelve." 

"Three  hours  of  waiting!  Such  dreadful  things 
may  happen  in  three  hours !  You  must  go  to  bed, 
now,  Hendrik,  —  'tis  much  beyond  your  time,  and 
you  stay  up  to  no  purpose." 

"Let  me  first  take  one  more  look  to  make  sure 
that  Arrow  has  not  slipped  in  and  fooled  us." 


364  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

He  raised  the  window  and  climbed  out  on  to  the 
ladder  with  which  he  had  greatly  amused  himself 
earlier  in  the  evening.  It  was  so  much  easier  and 
quicker  to  go  down  a  ladder  than  to  descend  by  the 
stairs  and  go  around  the  house  to  reach  the  cote. 
Then,  too,  it  pleased  Hendrik  to  show  that  he  had 
the  strength  to  swing  the  ladder  from  the  window- 
ledge  to  the  pole  of  the  cote  or  back  again,  according 
as  he  wished  to  climb.  He  had  made  a  dozen  vain 
explorations  of  the  pigeon-holes,  and  the  last  was  no 
more  fruitful  than  the  others.  He  went  reluctantly 
to  his  room  at  Luya's  bidding,  lamenting  that  boys 
should  be  made  to  go  to  bed  at  the  pleasantest  time 
of  day,  and  when  they  were  not  at  all  ready  to 
sleep.  Yet,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes,  Hendrik 
was  on  a  far  journey  into  that  wonderful  country  of 
Nod  which  is  lighted  by  the  light  that  never  was  on 
land  or  sea. 

Then,  in  his  turn,  Jacob  was  for  persuading  Luya 
to  rest. 

"You  would  be  sensible  to  do  it,  Luya.  If  you 
will  go  to  sleep,  I'll  knock  on  your  door  at  the  first 
sign  of  the  moonrise." 

"  You  might  fall  asleep  yourself  if  I  should  leave 
you  alone." 

"No  fear  of  that." 

"  Truth  to  say,  Jacob,  I  am  two  days  aweary,  and 
should  be  the  better  for  a  mouthful  of  sleep;  but 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  365 

I  doubt  I'll  find  it.  I'll  lie  down,  but  not  undressed, 
so  that  I  shall  be  ready  the  moment  you  signal  me, — 
unless  I  fall  into  a  trance,"  she  said,  attempting  a 
recovery  of  her  usual  lightness.  "  I  have  so  remark- 
able a  head  that  I  know  not  if  it  have  lead  or  brains 
to  its  machinery,  —  but  'tis  of  a  mighty  heaviness. 
If  I  go  into  a  lethargy,  I  hope  you  will  not  twist  my 
joints  apart  in  the  effort  to  arouse  me.  They  say  'tis 
dangerous  to  wake  one  rudely  from  a  coma,  —  and,  as 
I  live,  Jacob,  I  feel  nearer  to  a  coma  than  I  do  to  a 
frolic." 

She  laughed  and  went  into  her  room,  and  Jacob 
seated  himself  to  wait  the  rising  of  the  moon,  having 
a  nebulous  idea  that  his  vigil  would  be  a  foolish  sort 
of  thing  were  it  at  the  caprice  of  any  one  but  Luya. 

The  time  dragged  along  heavily,  the  minutes 
seeming  to  multiply  as  they  passed ;  but  at  last  a 
faint  mist  of  light  wavered  in  the  darkness  in  almost 
indistinguishable  fineness.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
golden  edge  of  the  wide  disc  would  push  up  into 
view,  and  he  could  call  Luya  to  watch  this  softened 
and  exquisite  mimicry  of  the  day's  dawn,  the  full 
autumnal  moon  rising  over  the  midnight  shadowed 
waters. 

He  opened  the  window  and  took  a  deep  breath  of 
the  keen  fresh  air,  and,  standing  there,  he  heard 
Luya  calling  him  in  a  whisper.  She  was  at  her  door, 
pale-faced  and  beckoning. 


366  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  I  have  had  that  ghastly  vision  again,  Jacob  !  And 
come,  look !  From  my  window  you  can  see  a  light 
in  Mr.  War  ing's  house." 

"That  means  nothing,  Luya.  You  have  had  the 
same  dream  because  it  was  in  your  mind,  so  —  " 

"  Don't  try  to  reason  with  me,  Jacob.  It  is  not  a 
thing  of  reasoning.  I  feel  —  and  all  you  can  say 
would  not  take  that  feeling  from  me.  I  believe  Mr. 
Waring  is  writing  in  that  room,  —  I  know  he  is,  and 
if  he  finishes  the  writing,  he  will  go  to  the  desk  and 
take  out  a  packet,  —  and  then  !  Jacob,  I  must  know 
what  is  doing  in  that  room.  I  must  look  in  through 
that  window." 

Jacob  took  hold  of  her  arm,  detaining  her  as  she 
started  toward  the  stairs. 

"  You  can't  go,  Luya.  The  window  is  in  the 
second  story.  That  means  a  climb.  I'll  go.  The 
moon  is  rising  now.  You  must  watch  for  the  coming 
of  the  pigeon." 

"  Then  go,  go  at  once,  Jacob !  And  note  things 
well.  I  have  never  been  inside  Mr.  Waring's  house. 
I  know  nothing  about  it.  But  remember  what  I 
have  told  you  about  the  bed,  the  table,  the  desk, 
the  dressing-table,  and  see  if  they  are  not  as  I  have 
described  them.  And  Mr.  Waring,  writing  with  his 
back  to  the  window,  his  coat  off,  a  three-branched 
candlestick  on  his  table." 

"  I  shall  look  well,  Luya." 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  367 

"  And  act,  —  act,  Jacob,  if  you  see  a  need  !  " 

"There  will  be  no  need  to  do  anything,  Luya." 

They  went  down  the  stairs  together,  whispering, 
and  stepping  with  care  not  to  disturb  Mrs.  Van- 
bergen,  and  at  the  door  Luya  said  : 

"  Knock  ever  so  lightly  when  you  return.  I'll  hear 
you  and  will  let  you  in." 

"  I  can  come  in  through  the  window  by  the  ladder 
with  the  least  noise.  Shall  I  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  come  that  way,"  said  Luya.  "  Ah,  look  ! 
The  moon  !  It  will  soon  be  light.  I  shall  take  it 
as  a  gift  from  God  if  the  pigeon  comes  in  time." 

Jacob  went  up  the  road  half-running,  and  turned 
down  to  the  Waring  house.  The  light  came  from 
one  of  the  half-curtained  windows  of  the  upper 
story.  Directly  in  front  of  the  window,  at  a  dis- 
tance of  some  twenty  feet,  was  a  spreading  elm,  into 
the  branches  of  which  Jacob  climbed,  guiltily.  He 
got  into  a  position  that  commanded  quite  two- 
thirds  of  the  room,  and  at  the  first  glance  he  was 
startled  to  see  with  what  accuracy  Luya  had  de- 
scribed the  various  objects  and  their  disposition. 
And  there  was  Mr.  Waring,  his  coat  thrown  .off, 
writing  intently,  his  back  to  the  window,  his  head 
bent  low  over  his  work.  A  superstitious  awe  came 
upon  Jacob.  The  longer  he  clung  there  looking  in 
upon  that  scene  of  quiet  labour  which  offered  so 
little  to  the  provocation  of  fear,  the  stronger  became 


3 68  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

the  conviction  that  a  tragedy  was  preparing.  It  was 
as  if  something  were  pressing  the  knowledge  into  his 
brain,  crowding  it  into  conscience,  informing  him  and 
commanding  him.  He  had  never  known  sensations 
so  much  like  fear ;  his  hands  trembled  as  they 
grasped  the  limb  of  the  tree,  and  his  knees  seemed 
to  lose  power  under  him.  To  Jacob's  mind  nothing 
was  as  awful  as  self-destruction,  —  it  was  the  un- 
pardonable sin,  the  greatest  blasphemy  against  the 
Maker.  He  seemed  to  be  now  face  to  face  with 
the  horror.  The  idea  came  into  his  head  that  he 
would  make  his  way  through  the  dark  house  to  that 
lighted  room,  and  take  the  man  there  by  the  shoulder 
and  drag  him  out  under  the  stars  and  the  moon,  that 
his  soul  might  abhor  itself  unto  repentance ;  or  he 
would  stand  over  him  at  the  table  there,  and  say  : 

"  I  know  what  you  have  it  in  your  mind  to  do. 
Well,  dare  you  do  it  while  I  look  on  ? " 

One  of  these  things  it  was  his  duty  to  do,  was  it 
not  ?  And  yet,  should  he  do  either,  what  would  it 
avail  ?  What  would  be  said  ?  How  could  he  justify 
his  interference  ?  How  accuse  a  man  of  such  a  pur- 
pose ?  This  midnight  toil  might  be  only  the  getting 
of  resources  into  order  for  the  next  day's  operations. 
It  would  be  rash  to  act  on  vague,  ill-grounded  fears, 
fears  that  took  rise  from  a  girl's  day-dream. 

Jacob  got  down  from  the  tree,  greatly  distressed 
in  mind,  as  much  a  victim  to  nervous  apprehension 


IN  OLD   NEW   YORK.  369 

as  Luya  herself.  He  was  as  eager  as  she  that  the 
message  should  come,  and  the  clearness  of  the  skies 
lighting  under  the  full  glow  of  the  moon  gave  him 
hope  that  it  would  come.  Returning  to  the  house, 
he  forced  himself  into  an  outward  calm  ;  and  mount- 
ing the  ladder  to  Luya,  who  was  waiting  with  the 
window  open,  he  said,  attempting  a  bantering 
tone : 

"There's  nothing  to  fear.  Your  dream  was  only 
a  dream.  It  was  like  other  dreams.  We  can't  put 
trust  in  good  dreams  ;  we  should  not  have  faith  in 
bad  ones." 

As  he  entered  the  room  she  held  a  candle  up  to 
his  face,  looking  into  his  eyes  silently.  Though  he 
looked  at  her  firmly,  she  shook  her  head  and  said, 
turning  away : 

"I  had  not  thought  you  would  have  tried  to 
deceive  me." 

Jacob  made  no  response,  but  offered  to  close  the 
window. 

"  No  ;  leave  it  open,"  she  said,  "  the  air  is  life- 
giving.  The  night  is  not  even  cool.  And  I  want  to 
see  anything  that  moves  in  the  sky." 

They  sat  by  the  window  without  speaking,  for  a 
long  time,  each  knowing  what  the  other  had  upper- 
most in  thought.  After  a  time  he  asked  : 

"The  message  is  to  be  in  cipher,  is  it  not  ?  What 
have  you  done  with  the  key  ?  " 


3/O  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  I  have  it  here,"  she  answered,  putting  her  hand 
on  her  bosom.  "  I  have  not  left  it  out  of  my  care 
for  a  moment." 

There  was  again  a  silence. 

"  See  if  the  light  is  burning,  Jacob." 

He  went  into  her  room,  very  well  understanding 
what  light  she  meant,  and  looked  toward  Mr.  War- 
ing's  house. 

"Yes,  the  light  is  burning,"  he  said,  coming  back 
to  his  place  at  the  window. 

After  a  pause,  she  asked  : 

"  What  if  it  should  not  come,  Jacob  ?  " 

"  It  will  come,  Luya." 

He  took  her  hand.  It  seemed  to  be  chilled  and 
bloodless. 

"  You  are  cold,  Luya." 

"  No,  I'm  on  fire.     My  brain  is  burning." 

"  I'll  get  you  something." 

"I  want  nothing."  Then,  as  if  suddenly  recollect- 
ing the  question,  she  asked  : 

"  Has  Claudine  Lambert  gone  away  ? " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Some  one  sent  me  a  card  to-day.  I  can  guess 
who  sent  it.  I  can  guess  why.  Malice  is  such  an 
extraordinary  thing.  It  invents  such  stupid  lies. 
There !  there !  there  !  "  she  suddenly  cried  out,  ex- 
citedly, flinging  herself  to  her  knees  and  leaning 
out  at  the  window. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  3/1 

"  What  is  it  ? "  demanded  Jacob,  startled  by  the 
sudden  energy  of  her  movement. 

"  Something  flying  !     See,  see  !     It  is  Arrow  !  " 

"  No  —  that  is  not  Arrow.  Look  —  it  turns  —  it 
is  a  whippoorwill  —  it  is  gone." 

"  No,  no,  Jacob,  not  that,"  she  exclaimed,  insist- 
ently pointing,  "  yonder,  —  there  —  now  you  can  see 
it  against  the  white  patch  under  the  moon !  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  something.     It  flies  like  a  pigeon !  " 

"  It  is  a  pigeon  !  I'm  sure  of  it.  It  is  dear  old 
Arrow  at  last !  It  is,  it  is  !  See  how  straight  he 
comes  this  way.  Quick,  Jacob,  quick  !  He  is  com- 
ing lower.  He  will  arrive  before  you  can  climb  to 
the  cote." 

Jacob  had  got  through  the  window  and  was  going 
down  the  ladder  as  she  spoke. 

"  There !  there !  he  is  swerving  toward  the  Fort. 
He  is  past  the  Fort.  There  he  comes !  I  can 
almost  see  the  beat  of  his  wings.  But  look,  look, 
he  is  circling  as  if  to  alight !  He  has  alighted ! " 
she  cried,  despairingly.  "He  has  stopped  on  the 
de  Lancy  house.  I  can't  see  him  now.  What  if  it 
were  not  Arrow,  after  all !  " 

The  idea  was  like  a  blow.  She  bowed  her  head 
upon  her  arm  resting  on  the  window-sill,  and  moaned 
as  if  she  had  suffered  a  bodily  hurt.  But  Jacob 
called  out : 

"  I  see  him  !     Here  he  comes  !  " 


372  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

She  looked  up  quickly  and  saw  the  pigeon  just 
fluttering  to  alight  on  the  top  of  a  tree  near  the  end 
of  the  house. 

"  Ah  !  He  is  in  the  tree  !  Come  down,  Jacob, 
come  down  !  He  is  afraid  to  come  to  the  cote  with 
you  there.  No  —  no  —  he  has  flown  !  There  he 
wheels !  Keep  quiet !  He  is  settling !  There  he 
is,  just  above  your  head.  Gently,  Jacob,  gently  ! 
Don't  frighten  him.  Ah,  ah,  ah !  you  have  him ! 
Quick  —  the  message  !  Lose  no  time.  It  must  be 
delivered  at  once." 

She  rose  in  such  agitation  of  mind  and  in  such 
a  tremor  of  body  that  it  seemed  to  her  she  had  lost 
control  of  herself.  She  swayed  toward  the  middle 
of  the  room,  reaching  out  a  hand  to  find  support 
where  there  was  none,  and  fell  to  the  floor,  with  an 
instinctive  but  barely  audible  cry  for  help. 

Jacob  was  securing  the  message  and  getting  the 
ladder  in  place  while  calling  out  in  subdued  tones  to 
the  unconscious  Luya : 

"I  have  the  message.  Get  the  cipher  ready. 
We  won't  waste  a  minute.  I'll  go  at  once  with  it." 

Presently  he  came  up  the  ladder,  and  when  his 
eyes  were  on  a  level  with  the  window  he  saw  her 
lying  in  that  inert  heap,  and,  in  his  careless  eager- 
ness to  come  to  her  relief,  the  ladder  was  thrown 
down  as  he  entered  at  the  window.  He  bent  over 
her,  calling  to  her  to  wake,  and  lifted  her  in  his  arms 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  373 

to  place  her  on  the  lounge,  repeating  her  name  into 
her  ear  as  he  bore  her  across  the  room. 

"Luya!  Luya !  wake,  wake!  The  message  has 
come.  I  have  it !  Give  me  the  cipher.  Luya ! 
Remember  what  is  at  stake !  Wake,  wake !  you 
must  wake ! " 

He  beat  at  the  palms  of  her  hands  and  shook  her 
by  the  shoulders,  to  no  avail ;  and  then  his  strong 
fingers  twisted  themselves  into  the  lacing  of  her 
bodice,  and,  with  a  masterful  force,  snapped  the 
silken  cords  like  threads,  and  with  a  sweep  of  the 
hand  set  the  imprisoned  bosom  free.  Luya  made  a 
slight  responsive  movement  and  a  sigh  came  from 
her  lips ;  but  Jacob  saw  a  fold  of  paper  just  slipped 
from  her  uncovered  breast,  and,  no  longer  having  the 
need  to  revive  her,  he  took  up  the  paper  and  went 
to  the  table.  He  hurriedly  unfolded  the  paper,  saw 
that  it  was  the  "  key,"  opened  the  message,  glanced 
hastily  from  one  to  the  other,  translating  a  word  or 
two,  then,  crushing  them  both  into  one  hand,  he 
leaned  toward  Luya,  calling  low  into  her  ear, 
"  Wake,  wake  !  Good  news  !  Thank  God  for  your 
sake,  Luya !  "  and,  not  waiting  to  note  that  her  lips 
moved  and  that  her  eyelids  quivered,  he  left  her, 
hastening  from  the  room  and  down  the  stairs  and 
into  the  night. 

And,  as  he  went  out  by  the  front  door,  in  his 
hurry  leaving  it  open  behind  him,  Wallace  Waring 


374  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

looked  in  through  the  open  window  upon  Luya  just 
awaking  from  her  swoon.  He  had  been  disturbed 
by  the  note  brought  to  him  in  the  evening,  and, 
seeking  relief  for  his  feelings,  had  quit  the  players 
at  the  inn  for  a  sleep-wooing  walk  in  the  moonlight. 
He  had  wandered  to  the  Fort  and  come  into  the 
open  in  time  to  see  a  man  entering  at  Luya's  window. 
His  jealousy  carried  him  forward  in  a  blind,  un- 
reasoning rage,  and,  setting  the  overturned  ladder 
in  place,  he  mounted,  and  climbed  into  the  room. 

Luya  half  arose,  her  mind  still  confused,  as  he 
stopped  before  her,  dumb  with  anger. 

"  You  must  make  haste,  Jacob,"  she  said,  vaguely, 
looking  up  at  Wallace  and  seeming  to  be  struck  by 
some  strangeness  of  his  appearance. 

"  You  have  not  to  urge  him,  madam !  He  has 
made  good  haste,  I'll  be  his  witness.  So  it  was 
Jacob,  then  ! " 

"Is  it  you,  Wallace?"  she  asked,  not  noting  the 
fury  of  his  speech,  but  brought  to  full  consciousness 
by  it.  "  Why,  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  By  the  same  way  your  lover  came !  you  —  you 
plaything !  " 

The  brutality  of  his  tone,  the  threatening  attitude 
in  which  he  stood,  frightened  and  confounded  her. 
In  an  involuntary  movement  of  self-defence  she  put 
her  hands  to  her  bosom  and  so  became  aware  of  the 
disorder  of  her  bodice.  A  perception  of  his  meaning 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  375 

rushed  upon  her.  Shame  reddened  her  cheek  as 
she  drew  the  two  parts  of  the  bodice  together ;  but 
he  laughed,  and  the  flush  of  modesty  gave  place  to 
the  pallor  of  indignation,  and  her  eyes  flashed  as  she 
looked  at  him. 

"  Wallace !  " 

"  Oh,  play  your  part,  play  your  part !  "  he  cried, 
interposing  to  prevent  her  as  she  would  have  passed. 
"It  proves  you  are  more  wanton  than  I  thought. 
You  are  practised  in  the  arts!  A  simple  novice 
would  shed  tears,  confess  her  fault,  and  whine  for 
pardon,  swearing  out  her  soul  in  promises !  You've 
got  beyond  that  weakness !  You  have  found  out 
how  credulous  men  are !  You  face  down  accusation 
with  the  mask  of  virtue,  —  indignant  innocence. 
And  on  my  word  you  wear  it  bravely ! " 

"Wallace!"  There  was  all  the  resentment  of 
outraged  womanhood  in  the  tone. 

"  Oh !  you  are  not  clever  enough  to  make  me 
discredit  the  evidence  of  my  own  eyes.  If  I  have 
been  your  dupe,  I'll  not  be  your  fool  as  well.  But 
I'll  listen  to  you.  'Twere  a  pity  not  to  hear  you 
heap  reproaches  on  me.  That's  in  the  role.  Play 
your  part  in  its  entirety.  Come,  speak  the  speech 
as  you  have  studied  it !  Let  outraged  Virtue  have 
her  oracle.  Chance  brought  me  to  witness  your  gal- 
lant's enterprise ;  take  the  chance  to  convince  me  it 
was  honourable." 


3/6  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

During  the  first  of  this  passionate  tirade  Luya's 
emotions  had  been  all  but  insupportable.  As  it  con- 
tinued, her  feelings  rapidly  changed,  pain  and  won- 
derment and  anger  being  succeeded  by  a  sustaining 
pride.  When  he  mockingly  bowed,  giving  her  leave 
to  speak,  she  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  calm,  superb 
dignity,  with  a  self-respect  so  complete  that  she  no 
longer  attempted  to  hide  the  disarray  of  her  dress. 
Then,  without  a  word,  she  crossed  to  her  own  room, 
entered,  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

MR.  WARING  had  finished  his  writing  and  drawn 
close  the  curtains  of  his  window.  In  his  shirt 
sleeves,  the  loose  collar  with  its  ruffle  of  lace  turned 
well  back  from  his  throat,  he  was  standing  before  the 
mirror,  rather  curiously  studying  the  mocking  face 
reflected  there.  The  sudden  violent  crash  of  the 
front  door  knocker  startled  him.  Something  fell 
glitteringly  from  his  hand,  and,  striking  on  the 
marble  of  the  table,  had  a  piece  broken  from 
its  fine  edge.  He  looked  about  him  fearfully,  like 
one  alarmed  in  some  lawless  act.  He  listened  to  the 
knocking,  which  had  but  brief  intermittent  intervals. 
He  thought  noise  was  never  so  great  and  echoing. 
It  was  like  an  attempt  to  awaken  the  neighbour- 
hood. Hearing  the  sound  of  something  overturned 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  house,  he  knew  the  ser- 
vants had  been  aroused.  He  feared  they  might 
let  in  the  importunate  person,  and,  passing  through 
the  next  room  and  along  a  hall,  he  called  down  the 
stairs : 

"  Cato !  " 

377 


378  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  Yes,  Marse  Stephen  ? " 

" Let  the  door  alone.     Go  to  bed." 

"Yes,  Marse  Stephen." 

The  knocking  continued  determinedly.  Mr.  War- 
ing raised  the  window  over  the  front  door. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"I  want  to  speak  with  Mr.  Waring." 

"I  am  Mr.  Waring." 

"  I  have  a  thing  of  importance  to  lay  before  you, 
if  you  will  bid  them  let  me  in." 

"  Who  are  you  ? " 

"  Jacob  Wilbruch." 

"  Ha !  I  think  I  can  guess  what  you  have  to  say 
to  me.  Be  good  enough  to  leave  my  door  in  peace." 

He  drew  in  his  head  and  was  about  to  lower  the 
window.  Jacob  cried  out,  protestingly  : 

"On  my  honour  as  a  man  'tis  to  your  interest. 
News  is  come  from  England." 

Mr.  Waring  caught  at  the  word. 

"  News  from  England !     Has  a  ship  come  in  ? " 

Jacob  reasoned  with  uncommon  rapidity  or  an- 
swered from  intuition,  for,  without  hesitation,  he 
replied : 

"  Yes,  a  ship  has  come  in." 

"  And  the  news  ?  "  Mr.  Waring  leaned  eagerly 
out  of  the  window,  repeating  his  question  impatiently 
before  there  was  time  to  answer  it. 

"The  king's  army  is  victorious." 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  579 

"Thank  God  !  Thank  God  !  It  is  true,  Wilbruch? 
It  is  true  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  true,  Mr.  Waring." 

Mr.  Waring  burst  into  a  laugh,  an  uncanny  laugh 
for  him,  for  it  was  the  laugh  of  a  boy  escaping  the 
penalty  of  an  escapade,  —  a  gleeful  laugh,  yet  with 
the  shiver  of  the  past  apprehension  in  it.  He  was 
ashamed  of  the  outburst,  but  could  not  restrain  him- 
self. He  closed  the  window  unceremoniously  and 
went  back  to  his  room,  laughing  as  he  went,  and, 
tearing  into  shreds  the  writing  on  the  table,  held  the 
ribbons  of  the  paper  in  the  candle  flame,  laughing  to 
see  them  burn.  He  blew  out  the  lights  and  threw 
himself  on  to  the  bed  without  undressing,  drawing  a 
robe  over  him,  and  saying  aloud,  as  if  speaking  to 
some  one,  "  If  the  market  recovers  in  the  morning 
I'm  saved.  But  if  I  could  have  had  the  news  to 
myself,  I  could  have  bankrupted  them  all !  I  should 
like  to  have  given  them  a  twist !  Oh,  if  I  only  had 
another  ten  or  twenty  thousand  pounds  !  " 

Jacob,  disconcerted  by  the  abrupt  close  of  the  con- 
versation before  he  could  make  his  explanation,  stood 
irresolute  on  the  doorstep  for  some  time  after  Mr. 
Waring  retired  from  the  window.  He  felt  reassured 
by  the  manner  in  which  the  news  had  been  received, 
and,  resolving  to  see  Mr.  Waring  before  Exchange 
time  in  the  morning,  he  went  down  the  walk  well 


380  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

content,  intending  to  report  his  success  to  Luya. 
Looking  ahead  as  he  walked,  he  saw  a  man  approach- 
ing him,  who  seemed  to  have  come  into  the  broad- 
way  from  the  vicinity  of  the  Vanbergen  house.  As 
they  came  nearer  together,  something  familiar  in  the 
carriage  of  the  man  struck  him  ;  but,  before  he  could 
distinguish  who  it  was,  the  other  called  out : 

"  Draw,  if  you  have  a  weapon  to  defend  yourself !  " 

"I  am  unarmed,"  Jacob  said,  "but  I  should  not 
draw  on  you  if  I  were  not.  I  have  no  quarrel  with 
you." 

"  It  shall  not  be  said  that  I  waylaid  you  like  an 
assassin  in  the  night, — though  I  swear  my  con- 
science would  acquit  me  were  I  to  kill  you  as  you 
were  a  rat !  But  you  shall  fight  me  before  the  sun 
is  an  hour  high  ;  you  shall,  or,  by  heaven,  the  town 
shall  know  the  why  of  it !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  has  come  over  you,  —  but 
you  are  doing  yourself  and  me  a  wrong.  If  you 
know  what  has  passed  to-night  — 

"  Don't  bandy  words  with  me !  I've  seen  your 
doxy !  "  —  Jacob  started  at  the  word,  —  "I  know  well 
enough  what  has  passed  to-night !  You  can't  lie 
out  of  it !  You  can't  trick  me  as  you  did  before ! 
You  shall  fight  for  your  demirep, — your  pretty 
blonde  baggage,  —  or  the  town  shall  know  how  I 
scared  you  from  her  arms  this  midnight  — 

Jacob,  uttering  a  cry  that  was  at  once  a  roar  of 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  381 

'  anguish  and  of  rage,  sprang  forward,  gripping  Wal- 
lace by  the  throat  to  strangle  his  speech.  He  was 
transformed  into  a  fury.  He  bore  Wallace  to  the 
ground,  and  held  his  head  backward  across  his  knee, 
panting  as  if  it  were  his  own  breast  from  which  the 
breath  was  being  crushed.  He  paid  no  attention  to 
Wallace's  struggles. 

"  Yes,  I  will  fight  you  !  You  are  not  worthy  to 
have  her.  I'll  take  her  from  you.  You  have  dared 
to  insult  her.  I  shall  avenge  that.  But  you  shall  not 
make  her  your  reason  for  fighting  me.  You  shall 
not  dishonour  her  by  bringing  her  name  to  the  sup- 
port of  your  knavery.  You  shall  fight  me  for  this, 
—  that  I'm  treating  you  like  a  scullion,  that  I  have 
choked  you  like  a  dog,  that  I  have  flung  you  in 
the  dust  like  a  rag.  I'll  fight  you  now !  " 

Jacob  flung  Wallace  from  him  and  stood  erect, 
waiting  till  Wallace  should  recover  the  power  to 
answer  him.  It  was  more  the  humbled  pride  than 
the  hurt  body  that  made  Wallace  so  slow  in  rising  to 
his  feet.  He  could  hardly  credit  his  senses.  The 
assault  was  so  unexpected,  was  of  a  character  so 
little  to  be  anticipated,  that  he  was  as  incapable  of 
understanding  it  as  he  had  been  unable  to  avert  it. 
His  soul  revolted  against  the  unmanly  degradation  ; 
and  his  pride  was  all  the  more  bitterly  stung  because 
he  believed  that  the  "man  who  had  so  unpardonably 
humbled  him  had  added  this  brutal  injury  to  a  most 


382  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

infamous  betrayal.  When  he  had  risen  to  his  feet, 
therefore,  his  state  of  mind  was  aggravated  by  the 
thought  that  he  must  meet  this  man  on  terms  of 
equality,  —  must  fight  with  this  ruffian  as  if  he  were 
a  gentleman.  Wallace  took  up  his  hat  from  the 
ground,  brushed  the  dust  from  his  dress  with  his 
handkerchief,  adjusted  his  sword  in  the  sash,  and, 
ready  to  go,  said,  with  composure  enough : 

"There  need  not  be  any  delay  over  preliminaries. 
I  shall  be  at  the  Black  Horse  Inn  with  a  friend  at 
eight  o'clock.  Small  swords  or  pistols  ?  " 

"Small  swords." 

Wallace  bowed,  and,  turning  about,  went  in  the 
direction  of  the  inn.  Jacob  stood  for  a  considerable 
time  irresolute.  He  was  uncertain  how  to  proceed 
with  regard  to  Luya.  He  felt  that  he  was  in  some 
way  accountable  to  her  for  the  shameful  insinuations 
against  her  which  his  ears  had  heard  and  which  his 
hands  had  not  adequately  punished.  He  thought  he 
must  go  to  her  in  contrition,  asking  pardon  that 
he  should  have  been  the  occasion  of  reproach  to  her. 
But  he  was  ignorant  what  had  passed  between  Luya 
and  Wallace,  and  how  far  he  was  privileged  to  intrude 
upon  Luya's  confidence.  He  went  reluctantly  toward 
the  house,  persuading  himself  to  silence.  There  was 
still  a  light  in  Luya's  room.  He  knocked  gently  on 
the  outer  door,  which  some  one  had  closed  after 
him. 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  383 

Presently  the  door  opened  a  little  way. 

"  I  thought  you  would  come,  Jacob.  Is  it  all 
well?" 

"Yes.  Only  I  did  not  have  the  chance  to  show 
Mr.  Waring  the  message  or  give  him  the  cheque." 

"  That  does  not  matter,  if  the  worst  dread  is  over. 
You  can  see  him  again  in  the  morning."  She  spoke 
with  little  interest,  he  thought. 

"  I  shall  hardly  have  time.  I  must  think  of  your 
father's  interests.  I  have  much  to  do.  I'll  leave  the 
message  and  the  cheque  with  you.  You  can  get 
them  to  Mr.  Waring." 

"  I  think  I  do  not  care  to  do  that." 

"Why?" 

He  detected  a  tinge  of  bitterness  in  her  tone,  and 
there  was  an  eagerness  in  his  question.  She  did  not 
choose  that  Jacob  should  know  of  the  scene  between 
her  and  Wallace,  and,  fearing  that  she  had  indicated 
too  much  of  her  feeling,  she  hastened  to  say : 

"  Leave  them  with  me.  It  is  right  that  he  have 
the  help  he  needs.  I'll  go  to  him  myself  early  in 
the  morning." 

He  gave  her  the  message  and  the  "  key,"  and  took 
from  his  pocketbook  the  cheque  he  had  expected  to 
give  Mr.  Waring  with  the  news. 

Luya  had  come  down-stairs  with  the  fear  in  her 
heart  that  Wallace  and  Jacob  might  have  met,  and, 
though  Jacob's  manner  and  talk  relieved  her  mind 


384  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

of  that  fear,  there  was  still  a  lingering  uneasiness. 
When  she  had  taken  the  papers  and  he  was  turning 
away  with  a  "  good  night,"  she  ventured  a  question. 

"  It  is  so  beautiful  out,  'tis  a  great  pity  there  is  no 
one  abroad  to  see !  I  am  almost  tempted  to  have 
you  take  me  to  the  Battery.  There  must  be  a  won- 
derful light  on  the  water.  Is  there  no  one  stirring 
but  you  ?  " 

"There  seems  to  be  no  one."  . 

"  And  you  have  seen  no  one  at  all  ? " 

"  No  one." 

"  Our  people  are  not  romantic.  Good  night,  —  or, 
to  speak  by  the  hour,  good  morning." 

Jacob  held  her  hand  a  moment  hesitatingly,  and 
then  lifted  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it  reverently. 
Kissing  hands  was  not  in  Jacob's  fashion,  and  she 
wojidered. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

IT  was  half-past  seven,  and  the  first  purple  of  the 
morning  was  still  faint  on  the  rim  of  the  sea.  Work 
was  doing  by  candle-light  at  the  Black  Horse  Inn. 
Mr.  Todd  was  standing  in  the  back  parlour,  looking 
through  the  double  doors,  directing  the  men  who 
were  clearing  the  upper  end  of  the  state  dining-room. 

"  Leave  that  window  looking  on  the  garden  open. 
There'll  be  need  of  air.  Drop  the  curtains  of  the 
street  windows.  There  will  be  light  enough  at 
eight." 

Wallace  entered  the  parlour  while  Mr.  Todd  .was 
speaking. 

"  Mr.  Bradford  hasn't  come  yet,  Todd  ? " 

"  Not  yet.  But  there  is  still  half  an  hour.  You 
are  all  ready,  sir  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  I've  been  ready  these  five  hours.  I  wonder 
at  Bradford's  delay." 

"  I  could  wish  there  were  no  occasion  to  his  com- 
ing, Mr.  Waring.  I  hope  the  affair  is  not  so  serious 
but  a  scratch  or  two  will  mend  it." 

"  If  the  scratch  be  deep  enough.     You  have  had 
word  from  Surgeon  Bailin  ? " 
385 


386  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Yes ;  he  is  waiting  in  the  coffee-room." 

"  Egad  !  'tis  well  the  surgeon  at  least  is  prompt." 

"  Have  you  breakfasted  ? " 

"I'm  not  in  stomach.  I  look  to  the -exercise  to 
give  me  appetite." 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you'll  have  an  appetite  after  it,"  said 
Mr.  Todd,  ruefully  going  toward  the  double  doors 
to  close  them.  "  I  think  everything  is  in  order.  If 
there  is  anything  you  wish  —  " 

"  Thank  you,  Todd,  there  is  nothing.  Ah,  Allen," 
he  cried,  going  to  receive  Bradford,  who  came  in 
at  the  side  door,  "  I  was  beginning  to  wish  for  you." 

"I've  been  delayed,"  Bradford  said,  holding  out 
his  left  hand,  his  right  being  encumbered  with  a 
rapier  case. 

"  No  matter.  Now  that  you  are  come  —  By 
your  leave,  Todd." 

"I  was  going.  These  doors  will  be  locked  on 
the  inside.  You  will  enter  from  the  hall."  He 
retired,  drawing  together  the  heavy  curtains  and 
closing  the  doors. 

"  What  has  happened,  Wallace  ?  "  Bradford  asked, 
earnestly. 

"You  have  the  answer  in  your  hand.  Let  me 
see  them." 

He  took  the  case  and  placed  it  on  the  table  and 
undid  the  fastenings. 

"Yes,  but   the   circumstances,"  urged   Bradford. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  387 

"Who  is  your  adversary?  And  what  the  deuce 
has  pushed  you  on  to  such  haste  ?  " 

Wallace  had  taken  out  one  of  the  rapiers  and  was 
testing  it. 

"I  could  have  wished  them  heavier.  But  'tis 
firm  enough  to  find  that  bastard's  heart,  I'll  be 
bound !  " 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking  ?    Who  is  the  man  ? " 

"  Must  you  be  told  ?  Haven't  you  guessed  ? 
Can't  your  mind  pick  out  the  scoundrel  ?  Is  there 
another  man  who  could  have  —  Oh,  Allen  !  "  he 
cried,  flinging  down  the  rapiers  and  going  passion- 
ately to  Bradford,  "I've  been  tricked — duped  — 
betrayed  —  made  the  butt  of  a —  Oh,  I've  got 
the  fire  of  hell  burning  in  my  brain  —  I  shall  go 
mad  if  I  think  of  it !  I'll  kill  him  —  I'll  reach  her 
heart  through  his  —  I'll  take  such  revenge  as  I  can !  " 

"  Good  Heaven,  Wallace,  you're  not  fit  to  fight 
a  duel  in  this  state  !  You  tremble  like  a  leaf." 

"  Yes,  because  I'm  a  fool,  — a  wretched,  miserable 
fool  with  a  heart,  Allen !  For  I  loved  her !  God 
pity  me,  I  love  her  now  —  love  her  in  spite  of  it ! 
I  tremble  because  I  am  not  man  enough  to  despise 
the  woman  who  has  wronged  me !  I  should  have 
forgiven  her  —  I  confess  it  —  I  should  have  for- 
given her  if  she  had  so  much  as  wept!  But 
not  a  word  !  Not  a  word  of  shame !  Not  a  tear  of 
penitence !  " 


388 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 


Bradford  grasped  him  by  the  arm,  shocked  by 
the  suspicion  in  his  mind. 

"  Are  you  talking  of  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  her ! "  Wallace  interrupted,  vehe- 
mently. 

" Luya  ? " 

"  Of  whom  else  ? " 

"  And  the  man  is  —  " 

"  Jacob  Wilbruch  !  Yes !  Damn  them,  damn 
them  ! " 

Bradford  was  dumfounded.  His  intelligence  re- 
volted against  an  accusation  so  incredible. 

"You  have  gone  clean  out  of  reason,  Wallace. 
The  thing  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  Nothing  is  more 
unbelievable.  Jacob  Wilbruch  would  not  wrong  her 
for  the  universe.  And  s-he —  Good  God  !  Jealousy 
has  made  a  madman  of  you  !  " 

"Oh!  I  have  said  that  no  less  than  a  thousand 
times  in  the  last  three  hours,  and  a  thousand  times 
my  doubts  have  been  answered  by  the  testimony  of 
my  own  eyes.  I  came  upon  them,  —  surprised  them 
in  the  midnight  rendezvous.  I  saw  him  clamber  in 
at  her  window,  and  followed  him.  I  must  have 
made  a  noise  to  alarm  him,  for  he  had  fled  when  I 
entered  the  room.  But  she  —  ugh  !  And  she  was 
dumb  —  dumb  —  and  brazened  it  out  with  her  si- 
lence —  " 

"  Whatever  the  appearances  may  be  —  " 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  389 

"Facts  —  facts  —  we  are  talking  of  facts,  not 
appearances." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  You  don't  believe  it !  " 

"  No  ;  I  believe  nothing  to  the  discredit  of  that 
lady." 

"Oh  !  I  remember  now,"  Wallace  laughed.  "You 
had  a  fancy  for  her  once  yourself !  You,  too,  thought 
so  much  loveliness  must  have  something  of  saintli- 
ness  in  it,  and,  not  being  the  victim  of  the  illusion, 
you  still  believe  in  it.  Then  you  refuse  to  serve 
me  ? " 

"  I  hope  to  serve  you  to  some  reason." 

"  Spare  yourself  the  trouble.  My  preceptor  this 
morning  shall  be  a  yard  of  steel;  and  I  swear, 
Allen,  I  should  be  glad  if  the  lesson  went  home 
to  my  heart.  But  if  you  do  not  think  to  second 
me  —  " 

"  There's  no  talk  of  that,  Wallace.  I  will  serve 
you  because  I  am  your  friend,  and  because  I  would 
not  have  some  one  else  in  my  place  prying  at  the 
cause  of  the  quarrel.  But  I  think  you  are  rushing 
blindly  into  a  crime,  —  a  crime  against  as  pure  a 
woman  —  " 

"  I  would  to  God  it  were  so,  Allen  !  Come  to  my 
room.  We've  not  much  time  to  waste,  and  I  have 
a  foolish  thing  of  a  will  there  which  I'd  have  you 
witness.  I  have  a  presentiment  — 


390  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Pish,  man  !  We'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  such 
devil's  pranks  as  presentiments  !  " 

He  returned  the  rapiers  to  the  case  and,  taking 
it  up,  followed  Wallace  out  of  the  room.  As  they 
were  passing  a  window,  going  up  the  stairs,  Wallace 
stopped  and  looked  out. 

"There  is  my  father  !  What  brings  him  out  so 
early  ?  And  he  seems  in  spirit,  Allen  !  I  hope  he 
is ;  though  I  marvel  he  should  be."  And,  continu- 
ing up  the  stairs,  he  added,  "  Gad,  'tis  odd  that  my 
father  and  I  should  be  indebted  to  the  same  little 
Judas  for  our  different  bad  fortunes." 

"  You  begin  the  day  betimes,  Mr.  Waring,"  said 
Surgeon  Bailin,  greeting  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Stephen 
Waring  into  the  inn. 

"When  I  have  reason,  surgeon,"  Mr.  Waring  re- 
plied, cheerfully.  "  I  take  this  to  be  a  propitious 
day,  and  come  to  drink  my  dish  of  tea  where  I  can 
have  the  news  with  it." 

"  If  you  could  get  your  news  as  fresh  as  the  tea, 
it  might  be  worth  the  exertion,  Mr.  Waring.  But  I 
shall  be  pleased  to  trade  some  old  news  for  ten  min- 
utes of  your  company." 

"Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Waring,  seating  himself, 
"  there  is  the  mould  of  two  months  on  our  freshest 
news ;  but  news  is  like  cheese,  the  better  for  being 
ripe  when  served.  A  pot  of  tea  if  you  please,  Todd, 
and  a  hot  bun." 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  391 

«  Happy  to  have  the  rare  honour  of  serving  you, 
Mr.  Waring.  And  I  am  sorry  to  begin  by  begging 
you  to  excuse  the  surgeon,  who  is  asked  for." 

Mr.  Todd  gave  him  a  significant  look,  warning  him 
to  be  guarded  before  Mr.  Waring. 

"  Well,  as  I  am  not  to  have  your  company,  Mr. 
Waring,  you  cannot  blame  me  if  I  keep  my  news ; 
though,  truth  to  say,  I  should  have  been  plaguily  put 
to  invention  to  amuse  you,  unless  you  have  in  you 
enough  science  to  appreciate  the  art  with  which  I 
came  between  Dominie  Small  and  a  carbuncle  on 
Wednesday  last.  But  that  is  news  will  keep  for 
an  older  telling."  The  surgeon  went  out,  laughing, 
following  the  direction  given  by  Mr.  Todd. 

"  And  what  are  the  particulars  of  the  news,  Todd  ? 
Was  it  a  decisive  victory  ? " 

"  Victory,  Mr.  Waring  ? "  Mr.  Todd  asked,  much 
perplexed.  "  Of  what  victory  do  you  speak,  sir  ? " 

"The  king's  victory  over  the  French,  to  be  sure. 
The  victory  over  Charles  Edward  and  his  rabble. 
Come,  come,  man,  don't  stare  till  your  eyes  drop  out. 
Have  you  not  yet  heard  the  news  the  ship  brought 
in  last  night  ? " 

Mr.  Waring  spoke  with  sinking  heart  and  paling 
cheeks.  He  understood  from  Mr.  Todd's  perplexity 
that  a  deception  had  been  practised  upon  him.  He 
anticipated  the  answer. 

"  No  ship  came  in  last  night,  Mr.  Waring." 


392  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

He  started  to  arise  from  the  table,  but  was  seized 
with  such  a  trembling  of  the  legs  that  he  sank  back 
into  the  chair.  He  saw  that  the  innkeeper  believed 
him  to  be  suffering  a  mental  disturbance,  and  was 
regarding  him  with  solicitude.  He  could  not  bear  to 
be  pitied. 

"  You  must  allow  me  my  little  jest,  Todd.  But  I 
have  a  sudden  spasm  of  the  heart,  —  an  old  weakness, 
—  and  it  takes  the  jest  out  of  me.  I  know  no  ship 
has  come  in.  I  think  —  I  think  I'll  have  you  fetch 
my  tea  into  the  back  parlor.  I  should  like  to  lie 
on  the  sofa  awhile.  I'll  be  quite  myself  in  a  few 
minutes." 

He  rose  resolutely,  and,  declaring  that  he  was 
already  better,  declined  Mr.  Todd's  arm  and  went  in 
the  direction  of  the  parlour.  As  he  was  passing 
along  the  corridor  he  unheedingly  heard  a  boy's 
voice  saying  at  the  side  entrance : 

"  I  know  the  way  to  the  parlour,  Luya.  I'll  show 
you,  —  and  then  I'll  find  him  for  you." 

As  he  reached  the  door,  he  heard  the  boy's  voice 
say: 

"There  he  is  just  ahead  of  us."  And  this  time 
Waring  looked  around,  pausing  in  the  doorway.  He 
recognised  Luya,  and  his  hands  clenched  and  the 
muscles  of  his  face  contracted  under  the  shock  of 
his  anger.  It  seemed  as  if  he  would  strike  her,  but 
she  came  fearlessly  to  him. 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  393 

"  I  have  come  to  speak  with  you,  Mr.  Waring.  I 
saw  you  pass  our  house.  I  tried  to  overtake  you." 

"  What  is  your  motive  in  pursuing  and  hounding 
me  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  befriend  you,  Mr.  Waring,  by  doing  you 
a  timely  service.  The  news  you  had  last  night  — • " 

"  So  !  It  was  your  doing,  then  !  I  might  have 
known  it,  since  it  was  your  lover  who  came  to  tor- 
ment me !  And  you  thought,  you  Jezebel,  that  you 
would  play  upon  my  weakness,  and  beat  down  my 
mind  to  match  with  my  fallen  fortune!  But  you 
failed  in  that,  you  see.  I  have  mind  enough  to  look 
through  the  mask  of  youth  and  innocence  you  wear 
down  into  your  vicious  heart !  " 

He  entered  the  room  and  would  have  closed  the 
door,  but  Luya,  holding  Hendrik  by  the  hand,  fol- 
lowed so  close  upon  him  that  she  was  on  the  thresh- 
old when  he  turned.  She  was  frightened  and 
trembling,  but  nothing  short  of  physical  violence 
could  have  prevented  her  saying  to  him  what  self- 
respect  bade  her  say. 

"  You  must  listen  to  me,  Mr.  Waring !  " 

"  I  want  none  of  your  tricks  and  inventions  !  Be 
good  enough  to  leave  me !  " 

"As  soon,  Mr.  Waring,  as  I  have  convinced  you 
of  your  mistake.  There  have  been  no  tricks  and 
inventions,  there  was  no  deception.  The  news  was 
true  —  " 


394  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

"  As  true  as  that  a  ship  came  in  last  night !  Have 
done  with  this  barefaced  impudence  —  " 

"The  ship  has  not  yet  come  in,  it  cannot  get  in 
to-day ;  but  I  have  its  news.  It  needs  but  a  min- 
ute to  convince  you,  if  you  have  enough  reasonable- 
ness to  listen." 

She  spoke  with  such  positiveness  that  he  moved 
aside  mechanically,  and  she  pressed  into  the  room. 
Motioning  Hendrik  to  go  to  the  window,  she  took 
from  the  silk  bag  on  her  arm  the  message  and  a 
carefully  written  translation  of  it,  which  she  laid 
side  by  side  upon  the  table.  Mr.  Waring,  in  spite 
of  himself,  watched  her  movements  with  interest, 
a  hope  of  which  he  was  hardly  conscious  laying 
a  restraint  upon  his  anger.  Her  self-possession 
returned  to  her,  and  she  spoke  quietly,  indifferent, 
apparently,  whether  or  not  he  should  credit  her 
words,  being  merely  concerned  to  quit  a  duty  to 
herself. 

"This  message  was  brought  by  a  carrier-pigeon 
from  my  father.  It  is  authentic.  This  is  the  trans- 
lation. My  father  sailed  three  days  ago,  at  my  urg- 
ing, to  meet  the  ship  from  England.  This  is  the 
news  he  got  from  that  ship,  the  Hester: 

"'Young  Pretender  beaten.  French  and  Scotch  forces 
scattered.  Great  victory  for  the  king.  Confidence  restored. 
Tell  Jacob  to  buy  freely.' " 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  395 

Mr.  Waring' s  face  gave  indication  of  a  struggle 
of  the  emotions,  but  it  was  evident  that  doubt  and 
distrust  were  uppermost,  and  there  was  something 
like  a  sneer  on  his  lips.  Luya  noted  these  unfavour- 
able signs  with  kindling  pride.  She  even  wondered 
at  herself  for  caring  to  convince  this  man  of  her 
honesty,  —  this  stupidly  arrogant  man,  whose  son 
had  so  grossly  forfeited  his  and  his  father's  rights 
to  her  consideration.  But  it  would  be  a  satisfaction 
to  make  this  man  understand  her  contempt  of  his 
sneers,  and  to  humble  him  with  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  really  holding  out  a  fortune  to  his  taking. 
She  went  on  with  a  sense  of  pleasure  in  admitting 
him  into  a  confidence  she  would  not  have  let  him 
share  under  more  favourable  conditions. 

"  I  watched  day  and  night  for  the  coming  of  that 
message,  in  order  that  you  might  have  the  news  in 
time  to  save  yourself,  and  you  had  it  within  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  of  its  coming,  —  a  well-timed  coming,  I 
think." 

A  shiver  went  through  Mr.  Waring  as  he  remem- 
bered the  timely  knocking  at  his  door.  His  eyes 
went  down  under  her  gaze. 

"  You  ask  what  my  motive  was,"  she  continued, 
noting  the  change  in  him.  "  My  object  was  to  win 
your  favour.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  I  hoped 
by  doing  you  this  service  to  gain  your  consent  to  my 
marriage  with  your  son,  for  I  thought  your  son  loved 


396  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

me  as  loyally  as  I  loved  him.  What  I  have  gained 
is  the  most  incredible  insults  from  you  both,  — 
insults  so  base  that  they  have  killed  my  love,  so 
unwarranted  that  they  no  longer  wound  my  pride. 
Your  favour  or  disapprobation  is  nothing  to  me  now. 
Your  son  defamed  me  on  account  of  the  man  who 
was  helping  to  save  your  honour.  I  come  to  you 
now  with  news  and  a  cheque  that  should  enable 
you  to  retrieve  and  advance  your  fortune,  only  be- 
cause I  would  not  lower  my  self-respect  by  taking 
the  revenge  I  might.  They  are  there  on  the  table ; 
do  with  them  what  you  please.  Come,  Hendrik." 

She  moved  toward  the  door.  Mr.  Waring,  mas- 
tered by  the  convincing  sincerity  of  her  manner  and 
words,  hurried  to  intercept  her. 

"  Miss  Vanbergen,  wait,  I  beg  of  you.  I  am  con- 
vinced of  the  truth  of  what  you  say.  I  have  wronged 
you  ;  I  ask  your  pardon.  Let  us  come  to  an  un- 
derstanding. Let  us  clear  up  the  mistakes.  Send 
the  child  away,"  the  last  words  being  a  whispered 
request. 

Luya  was  not  of  a  mind  to  continue  the  scene, 
but  at  his  earnest  pleading  yielded,  and  pushed 
Hendrik  gently  toward  the  door,  bidding  him  wait 
for  her  in  front  of  the  inn.  But  the  child  had  a 
feeling  that  Luya  needed  a  protector  near  her,  for 
he  distrusted  Mr.  Waring.  Pale-faced,  gray-haired 
men  whose  eyes  burned  like  fire  were  uncanny  folk 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK.  397 

to  leave  alone  with  girls.  He  begged  to  be  allowed 
to  stay. 

"I'll  be  good.  I  won't  listen.  I'll  wait  by  the 
window,  behind  the  curtain." 

He  went  to  take  up  the  position  as  he  spoke,  and 
saw,  to  his  joy,  that  large,  downy  flakes  of  snow,  the 
first  heralds  of  winter,  had  begun  chasing  each  other 
hither  and  thither  through  the  air  or  tumbling  to 
the  ground  to  rest.  After  one  exclamation  of  delight, 
his  spirit  slipped  into  that  absence  and  quiet  which 
let  the  voices  of  nature  be  heard,  and  the  gamboling 
snowflakes  became  as  playfellows  to  him,  and  led 
him  whither  they  listed. 

Mr.  Waring  demanded  eagerly  of  Luya  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  sending  and  return  of  the  pigeons, 
of  the  arrival  at  midnight,  and  of  Jacob's  share  in 
it  all ;  and,  thoroughly  convinced  that  the  news  was 
trustworthy  and  that  it  meant  his  salvation,  he  rose 
and  came  to  stand  in  front  of  her. 

"I  have  all  along  been  unjust  to  you.  I  have 
been  wrong  in  my  speech  and  manner  toward  you. 
You  have  proved  in  the  most  generous  and  mag- 
nanimous way  how  unworthy  I  was  to  judge  you, 
how  little  I  knew  or  understood  you.  I  won't  thank 
you  for  what  you  have  done ;  instead,  I  ask  you  to 
do  me  yet  another  kindness,  —  forgive  me!  Can 
you  do  that  ?  " 

He  held  out  both  his  hands  to  her,  and  she  put 


398  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

hers  into  them,  rising  as  she  did  so  and  smiling 
faintly. 

"  If  there  is  anything  I  need  to  forgive  I  forgive 
you.  And  you  can  forgive  me,  too." 

He  held  her  hands  in  silence  for  a  little  time, 
looking  into  her  face  meditatively;  then,  shaking 
his  head  slowly,  he  said : 

"  No,  I've  nothing  to  forgive  you.  It  is  true  I 
should  not  have  been  brought  to  such  perilous  straits 
if  I  had  remained  in  business  with  your  father.  But 
I  have  learned  something  that  was  worth  the  risk, 
if  I  come  fairly  out."  Then,  imagining  that  he  had 
spoken  too  freely,  admitted  too  much,  he  said,  as 
if  to  explain  his  words,  "  I  have  learned  to  respect 
honest  merchantry.  I  find  that  'tis  not  every  fool 
can  make  a  good  tradesman  !  " 

He  turned  to  the  table  and  took  up  the  cheque. 
He  fingered  it  irresolutely  for  awhile,  then  folded 
it,  tendering  it  to  Luya. 

"I  shall  not  need  this.  I  can  get  what  money 
I  want  from  my  banker  on  the  strength  of  the  news 
your  pigeons  have  brought.  Boylston  will  think 
better  of  my  securities  now."  He  laughed,  the 
sense  of  freedom  and  power  being  very  pleasant  to 
him.  "But  I  shall  express  my  gratitude  to  Mr. 
Wilbruch." 

She  took  the  cheque,  rather  sorry,  after  all,  that 
Mr.  Waring  could  depend  on  Mr.  Boylston 's  assist- 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK.  399 

ance.  She  called  to  Hendrik  and  was  going,  when 
Mr.  Waring  put  out  his  hands  again  to  take  hers. 

"  I  shall  call  on  your  father  when  he  returns.  I 
have  something  to  ask  him.  I  wish  to  take  his 
daughter  from  him." 

The  colour  came  into  her  cheeks,  but  she  looked 
steadily  into  his  eyes,  withdrawing  her  hands  from 
his. 

"That  is  over,  Mr.  Waring." 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

BEFORE  Mr.  Wai-ing's  astonishment  allowed  him 
to  question  Luya,  Mr.  Todd  entered  the  parlour, 
hurriedly. 

"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  have  your  tea  served 
in  another  room,  Mr.  Waring.  It  is  quite  ready." 

"I  prefer  to  have  it  here,  Todd,  if  it  is  the  same 
to  you.  And  I  hope  Miss  Vanbergen  will  drink  a 
cup  with  me."  Mr.  Waring  laid  his  hand  on  Luya's 
detainingly. 

"  Not  in  here,  I  beg  of  you,  Mr.  Waring,"  Mr. 
Todd  said,  urgently.  "This  room  is  under  engage- 
ment, sir."  Then,  coming  close  to  Mr.  Waring,  and 
speaking  in  a  confidential  whisper,  he  added,  "A 
matter  between  gentlemen  is  being  settled  in  the 
dining-room,  sir.  If  an  accident  should  happen,  this 
room  would  be  wanted." 

"  A  duel,  Todd !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Waring,  aloud. 

"  A  duel !  "  Luya  repeated,  an  intuitive  fear  seiz- 
ing upon  her  heart.  "  Between  whom,  Mr.  Todd  ?  " 
grasping  his  arm  nervously,  as  if  to  force  an  answer 
from  him.  "  Who  are  to  fight  the  duel  ?  Is  it  Mr. 
Wilbruch  ?  Is  it  Mr.  Waring  ? " 
400 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 


401 


"Wilbruch!  Waring!  Good  God,  Todd!  Is  my 
son  at  a  duel  with  Mr.  Wilbruch  ? "  He  started  for 
the  curtained  double  doors,  but  Mr.  Todd  held  him 
back. 

"  Have  a  care,  Mr.  Waring !  The  door  is  locked, 
and  any  noise  to  disturb  their  attention  would  be 
most  unfortunate,  sir."  . 

"  Are  they  in  there  ? "  Luya  asked,  under  her 
breath,  and,  running  to  the  door,  she  snatched  one 
of  the  curtains  aside  to  listen,  falling  to  her  knees 
and  pressing  her  ear  to  the  keyhole. 

"Is  it  my  son?"  demanded  Mr.  Waring,  greatly 
agitated.  "  Answer  me !  Answer  me !  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Waring,  it  is  your  son,  and  Mr.  Wil- 
bruch." 

"  Oh  ! "  moaned  Luya,  kneeling  by  the  door,  "  I 
can  hear  them  moving  about  —  I  can  hear  the  strik- 
ing of  their  swords." 

She  rose  suddenly,  her  face  blanched,  her  hands 
trembling,  and  came  to  Mr.  Waring,  imploringly 
passionate. 

"  Prevent  it !  Stop  it !  In  God's  name,  Mr.  War- 
ing, don't  let  it  go  on.  It  is  your  son !  It  is  the  man 
who  befriended  you  !  It  is  the  man  who  came  to 
you  last  night !  Stop  them,  stop  them  !  " 

She  clung  to  him  desperately,  repeating  the  demand 
over  and  over  as  if  his  will  could  end  the  combat. 

"  He  can't  stop  them,  Miss  Luya,"  Mr.  Todd  said, 


402  IN  OLD  NEW    YORK. 

kindly  but  insistently.  "  The  doors  are  locked.  And 
if  there  is  any  disturbance  here  it  may  cost  the  life 
of  one  of  them.  You  had  best  come  away." 

Mr.  Waring  put  his  arm  about  her  to  comfort  and 
soothe  her,  though  he  was  scarcely  less  tremulous 
than  she. 

"  Mr.  Todd  is  right,  my  child.  We  can  do  nothing. 
We  dare  not  interfere.  Leave  us,  Todd,  leave  us. 
We'll  wait  here  in  silence." 

Mr.  Todd  unwillingly  retired,  leaving  them.  As 
the  door  closed  behind  him,  Luya  started  at  the 
sound,  imagining  it  to  be  the  unlocking  of  the  double 
doors,  and  ran  to  them.  She  took  hold  of  the  knob 
and  turned  it,  pushing  at  the  doors,  and,  in  a  sudden 
frenzy  of  fear,  called  out : 

"  Wallace !  Wallace  !  It  is  a  crime  you  are  doing ! 
In  pity's  name,  some  one  unlock  the  door !  "  And 
she  began  beating  at  the  doors. 

There  was  an  exclamation  of  rage  from  the  room 
beyond,  for  Wallace  had  recognised  her  voice,  and 
thrust  at  Jacob  with  reckless  violence  as  he  cried  : 

"  A  sweetheart  to  the  rescue !  " 

Mr.  Waring  had  hurried  to  Luya  and  grasped  her 
hands,  forcing  her  away  from  the  door. 

"  My  child,  think  what  you  are  doing !  One  un- 
guarded thrust  might  be  fatal  —  " 

"But  if  they  fight  to  the  end,  what  then?  Oh, 
Mr.  Waring,  something  can  be  done !  Something 


IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 


403 


must  be  done !  I  lied  to  you !  I  love  your  son  ! 
Save  him  !  He  will  obey  you.  Speak  to  him  !  Call 
to  him  !  He  will  stop  at  your  bidding." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Luya.  There  is  but  one  thing  can 
be  done.  It  is  a  desperate  chance,  and  a  dangerous 
chance.  See  there,"  pointing  to  the  window,  "you 
can  see  that  a  window  to  the  dining-room  is  open. 
The  child  might  climb  through  — " 

Luya  caught  instantly  at  the  idea. 

"  He  can,  he  will !     Hendrik !  " 

She  ran  to  the  corner  where  Hendrik  was 
crouched  down,  weeping  in  silent  terror  of  he  knew 
not  what,  and  took  his  head  between  her  hands, 
murmuring  encouragement,  and  kissing  his  tears 
away. 

"  If  he  is  careful,  they  will  be  too  much  engaged 
to  notice  him  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Hendrik  understands,"  Luya  inter- 
rupted, eagerly.  "He  will  be  careful,  he  will  be 
brave.  You  are  to  unlock  the  door,  Hendrik.  It 
must  be  done  quickly,  before  any  one  can  stop  you. 
The  minute  you  are  in  the  room,  run  straight  for  the 
door  and  turn  the  key  — 

"  Yes,  sister  Luya ;  I'll  do  what  you  tell  me." 

Mr.  Waring  had  raised  the  parlour  window,  and 
they  helped  Hendrik  out,  Mr.  Waring  leaning  down 
and  holding  the  boy  at  arm's  length  to  shorten  the 
drop  to  the  ground.  On  striking  the  ground,  Hen- 


404  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

drik  fell  full  length  in  the  light  snow,  but  was  up 
before  they  could  wonder  if  he  were  hurt,  and  ran 
to  the  trellis  under  the  dining-room  window.  He 
climbed  quickly  to  the  window,  and,  as  he  paused  at  a 
signal  from  Mr.  Waring,  to  look  cautiously  into  the 
room,  Luya  hurried  to  the  door  and  stood  with  her 
hand  on  the  knob  in  feverish  readiness  to  push  in  the 
instant  the  key  turned  in  the  lock.  She  stood  there, 
panting.  The  time  seemed  so  long  that  she  feared 
that  the  plan  had  failed.  She  could  hear  the  play  of 
steel  against  steel,  the  shuffling  of  feet  on  the  oak 
boards,  the  intermittent  sounds  and  exclamations  of 
men  in  deadly  excitement,  and  suddenly  the  cry,  "  A 
hit !  "  followed  by  an  angry  denial  and  a  redoubled 
energy  of  striking  steel.  Seconds  only  were  passing, 
but  she  thought  them  minutes,  and  she  could  not 
repress  the  emotion  that  swelled  to  her  lips  in  the 
fear  of  Hendrik's  failure.  She  called  out  to  Mr. 
Waring,  hysterically  : 

"  They  have  stopped  him !  They  have  stopped 
him!  Hendrik!  Hendrik  !  " 

But,  while  she  was  yet  uttering  the  name,  the  door 
swung  open  under  her  pressure,  and  she  was  precip- 
itated into  the  room  at  such  an  impetus  that  she  was 
carried  into  the  very  midst  of  the  group,  and  fell 
against  Jacob's  breast,  he  catching  her  with  his  arm. 
It  was  at  the  very  moment  when  Wallace,  whose  back 
was  to  the  door,  took  advantage  of  Jacob's  distracted 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  405 

attention  to  make  a  savage  thrust.  The  blade,  as 
slender  as  that  of  a  poniard,  passed  through  Luya's 
arm  into  Jacob's  side. 

Wallace  drew  back  his  sword  and  flung  it  to  the 
floor. 

"  I've  killed  her ! "  he  cried,  seeing  her  limp  and 
silent  in  Jacob's  embrace,  and  would  have  taken  her 
in  his  own  arms,  but  Jacob  put  out  a  hand  against 
him. 

Surgeon  Bailin  quieted  the  confusion  with  profes- 
sional coolness. 

"  No  excitement,  gentlemen !  Place  her  in  this 
chair.  So.  Let  me  see.  But  you  are  wounded, 
Wilbruch ! "  he  exclaimed,  catching  sight  of  the 
stain  in  Jacob's  shirt. 

"No,  it  is  her  blood.  Look  to  her,"  Jacob  re- 
plied. 

And  while  the  surgeon  was  bending  over  Luya, 
Wallace  and  Bradford  and  Mr.  Waring  pressing  near, 
Jacob  stood  a  little  distant  from  them,  with  his  left 
hand  held  against  his  side,  and  his  rapier  grasped  in 
his  right. 

Mr.  Manning,  his  second,  came  to  Jacob,  inquiring 
anxiously. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Wilbruch  ?  " 

"  Tis  but  a  touch.     It  hardly  bleeds." 

"  Let  me  take  your  sword." 

"  Not  until  I  know." 


406  IN  OLD  NEW   YORK. 

"  Know  what  ?  " 

"  If  he  has  killed  her." 

Manning  looked  into  Jacob's  face,  and  read  his 
purpose.  Jacob  was  standing  in  sword's  length  of 
Wallace,  who  was  kneeling  beside  Luya's  chair. 

"  Just  Heaven  !  Are  you  thinking  of  such  a  thing  ?  " 
demanded  Manning,  in  a  whisper.  "  Would  you 
murder  a  man  in  cold  blood  ? " 

"I  should  not  think  it  a  murder,"  Jacob  said, 
calmly. 

Manning  took  hold  of  the  sword,  attempting  to  get 
possession  of  it  quietly.  Jacob  gripped  it  firmly. 
They  stood  waiting,  each  with  a  hand  on  the  sword. 

"  Well,  surgeon  ? "  asked  Wallace. 

"As  I  thought,"  replied  Surgeon  Bailin.  "'Tis 
but  a  prick  in  the  arm.  A  matter  of  a  few  days' 
bandaging.  A  healthier  arm,  with  blood  to  match, 
never  came  under  my  eyes.  But  there  is  something 
amiss  with  the  nervous  system.  It  is  too  much  keyed 
up.  I  shall  have  to  tell  Vanbergen  to  allow  his 
daughter  less  excitement.  Well,  we'll  dress  this 
pretty  puncture  and  I'll  be  obliged  to  the  one  that 
shall  hand  me  a  basin  of  water." 

Hendrik  was  off  at  the  word,  the  tears  that  terror 
had  frozen  in  his  heart  flooding  his  eyes  under  the 
glow  of  love  reassured. 

Jacob  released  his  hold  on  the  sword,  permitting 
Manning  to  take  it,  and  went  to  a  sofa  near  the 


IN  OLD   NEW  YORK.  407 

window,  sitting  in  a  half-reclining  position  and  keep- 
ing his  eyes  fixed  on  the  surgeon  and  Luya. 

"  You  are  sure  your  hurt  does  not  need  prompt 
attention  ?  "  Manning  asked,  anxiously.  "  Let  me 
look  at  it." 

"  My  hurt  does  not  require  a  surgeon,  Manning," 
Jacob  said,  smiling  and  putting  him  off.  "  But,  after 
he  is  quite  done  attending  to  Luya,  Bailin  may  put 
on  a  bit  of  plaister,  if  he  thinks  it  worth  troubling 
about.  I  don't." 

Wallace  had  risen  to  his  feet  with  a  "Thank 
God ! "  when  he  learned  that  Luya's  wound  was  not 
serious,  and  Mr.  Waring,  putting  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"  We  may  well  thank  God,  my  son." 

Wallace  looked  into  his  father's  face,  surprised  by 
the  friendliness  of  the  voice  and  manner. 

"  And  we  may  thank  him  not  only  that  the  acci- 
dent to  her  was  small,  but  that  you  did  no  harm  to 
your  adversary,  for  they  are  both  our  benefactors." 

He  linked  his  arm  in  with  Wallace's  in  the  old 
familiar  way,  as  if  quarrel  had  never  come  between 
them,  and,  leading  him  into  the  next  room,  told  him, 
still  speaking  in  confidential  tone,  the  story  of  the 
midnight  message  and  his  deliverance  from  ruin. 
Wallace  was  profoundly  touched  by  the  recital.  The 
main  circumstances  recounted  by  his  father  per- 
mitted him  to  supply  from  his  own  facts  many  of 


408  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 

the  essential  details  that  made  clear  the  whole  ad- 
venture, which  he  had  so  grossly  misjudged.  Con- 
science set  him  on  the  rack  of  remorse,  for  he  rec- 
ognised his  conduct  as  a  crime  against  Luya  and 
against  Jacob  as  well.  Busy  with  these  thoughts 
and  his  purpose  of  reparation,  he  hardly  heard,  and 
certainly  did  not  comprehend,  what  his  father  was 
saying  as  to  his  own  obligations  to  Wilbruch  and 
Luya,  especially  the  ambiguous  phrase,  "  I  owe  it  to 
them  that  I  can  judge  with  charity  my  son's  tempta- 
tion to  cover  disgrace  with  a  crime,  for  they  saved 
me  in  a  more  shameful  moment."  But  he  under- 
stood the  final  "  Let  us  be  closer  friends  henceforth, 
Wallace ;  and  see  to  it,  lad,  that  you  have  the  virtue 
to  make  friends  with  them." 

He  hurried  again  into  the  parlour,  where  the  sur- 
geon was  chatting  with  Luya,  Bradford  looking  on 
smilingly. 

"  We  are  quite  ourselves  now,  eh  ?  Hartshorn  is 
a  sovereign  restorer.  You  find  the  pressure  on  your 
arm  a  little  tight  ?  Never  mind  that.  To-morrow 
or  the  next  day,  if  you  are  good,  we'll  abate  it  the 
smallest  fraction  of  an  inch.  And,  to  prevent  in- 
flammation, I'll  write  a  prescription,  if  I  can  find  a 
bit  of  paper  big  enough  to  scribble  a  monk's  prayer 
on." 

He  turned  to  his  coat  to  find  his  note-book,  as 
Wallace  came  to  throw  himself  down  beside  Luya, 


IN  OLD  NEW  YORK. 


409 


unmindful  of  those  about  him,  and  take  her  hand  and 
cover  it  with  kisses,  saying,  hurriedly  and  brokenly : 

"  Forgive  me,  forgive  me !  It  was  not  I  —  it  was 
a  madman  —  a  poor,  blind  fool,  Luya,  that  you 
should  pity  !  I'll  make  amends  —  don't  condemn 
me  —  though  I  merit  only  your  scorn  —  I  am  only 
fit  to  be  despised  —  I  was  unworthy  of  your  love  — 
but  forgive  me  —  forgive  me  out  of  your  goodness 
—  forgive  me!  " 

Luya  leaned  forward,  bending  her  head  toward 
Wallace. 

There  was  a  sharp,  frightened  cry  from  Manning  : 

"  Surgeon  Bailin,  quick !  " 

They  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  cry,  startled 
by  its  suddenness,  and  saw  Manning  lifting  Jacob 
back  on  to  the  sofa  from  which  he  had  just  fallen 
forward,  being  caught  in  Manning's  arms,  who  had 
but  returned  to  him  after  a  five  minutes'  absence. 

Surgeon  Bailin  was  quickly  at  Jacob's  side,  Luya 
and  the  others,  greatly  alarmed,  following  closely. 

Bailin  stooped  over  and  hastily  pulled  open  Jacob's 
shirt. 

"Great  God!  he  has  been  bleeding  to  death  for 
the  last  half-hour,  while  I  have  been  toying  with  a 
scratch  !  " 

He  hurried  back  to  the  table  to  get  his  instru- 
ments, as  Luya,  too  stunned  to  utter  sound,  pushed 
by  and  flung  herself  to  her  knees  beside  Jacob, 


4IO  IN  OLD   NEW   YORK. 

moaning  his  name  and  stroking  her  hand  down 
over  his  face  as  one  sometimes  wakes  a  sleeping 
child. 

"  Don't  drive  me  away,"  she  said,  when  the  sur- 
geon came  again  and  would  have  raised  her  from  her 
place.  "He  doesn't  need  you  now  !  " 


THE   END. 


SELECTIONS  FROM 

L.    C.   PAGE  AND   COMPANY'S 

LIST  OF  FICTION 


Selections  from 
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List  of  fiction 


An  Enemy  to  the  King.     (Twentieth  Thousand.-) 

From   the   Recently    Discovered    Memoirs    of   the 
Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.     By  ROBERT    NEILSON    STE- 
PHENS.    Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          .         .         .  $1.25 

"  Brilliant  as  a  play  ;  it  is  equally  brilliant  as  a  romantic  novel."  —  Philadelphia 
Press. 

"  Those  who  love  chivalry,  fighting,  and  intrigue  will  find  it,  and  of  good  quality,  in 
this  book."  —  New  York  Critic. 

The  Continental   Dragoon.      (Eighteenth  Thousand) 

A  Romance  of  Philipse  Manor  House,  in  1778. 
By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "  An  En- 
emy to  the  King."  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  .  ,  .  .  $1.50 

"  It  has  the  sterling  qualities  of  strong  dramatic  writing,  and  ranks  among  the 
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one  of  the  most  captivating  of  Mr.  Stephens's  charms  of  manner  and  style."  —  Boston 
Herald. 


The     Road     tO     PariS.         (Sixteenth   Thousand.) 

By  ROBERT    NEILSON    STEPHENS,    author   of  "An 
Enemy  to  the  King,"   "The   Continental  Dragoon," 
etc.     Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  $1.50 

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LIST    OF    FICTION. 


A  Gentleman  Player. 

His  Adventures  on  a  Secret  Mission  for  Queen 
Elizabeth.  By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author 
of  "An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  "The  Continental 
Dragoon,"  "The  Road  to  Paris,'  etc.  Illustrated  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  450  pages  $1.50 

"  A  Gentleman  Player "  is  a  romance  of  the  Elizabethan  period. 
It  relates  the  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who,  in  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth, falls  so  low  in  his  fortune  that  he  joins  Shakespeare's  company 
of  players,  and  becomes  a  friend  and  protege  of  the  great  poet. 
Throughout  the  course  of  his  adventures  the  hero  makes  use  of  his 
art  as  an  actor  amd  his  skill  as  a  swordsman,  and  the  denouement  of 
the  plot  is  brought  about  by  means  of  a  performance  by  Shakespeare's 
company  of  a  play  in  an  inn  yard. 


Rose  a  Charlitte.     (Eighth 

An  Acadien  Romance.     By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS, 
author  of  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  H.  De 
M.  Young. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  $1.50 

"  A  very  fine  novel  we  unhesitatingly  pronounce  it  ...  one  of  the  books  that 
stamp  themselves  at  once  upon  the  imagination  and  remain  imbedded  in  the  memory 
long  after  the  covers  are  closed."  —  Literary  World,  Boston. 


Deficient  Saints. 

A  Tale  of  Maine.    By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS,  author 
of  "Rose  a  Charlitte,"  "Beautiful  Joe,"  etc.     Illus- 
trated by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
i   vol.,  lib.   I2mo,  cloth,  400  pages  $1.50 

In  this  story  Marshall  Saunders  follows  closely  the  fortunes  of  a 
French  family  whose  history  is  bound  up  with  that  of  the  old  Pine- 
tree  State.  These  French  people  become  less  and  less  French  until, 
at  last,  they  are  Americans,  intensely  loyal  to  their  State  and  their 
country.  Although  "Deficient  Saints"  is  by  no  means  a  historical 
novel,  frequent  references  are  made  to  the  early  romantic  history  of 
Maine. 


L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 


Her  Sailor.      (/»/v«j.) 

A  Novel.  By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS,  author  of 
"  Rose  a  Charlitte,"  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  etc.  Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  250  pages  $1.25 

A  story  of  modern  life  of  great  charm  and  pathos,  dealing  with 
the  love  affairs  of  an  American  girl  and  a  naval  officer. 

Midst  the  Wild   Carpathians. 

By  MAURUS  JOKAI,  author  of  "  Black  Diamonds," 
"The  Lion  of  Janina,"  etc.     Authorized  translation 
by  R.  Nisbet  Bain.     Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  $1.25 

"The  story  is  absorbingly  interesting  and  displays  all  the  virility  of  Jokai's 
powers,  his  genius  of  description,  his  keenness  of  characterization,  his  subtlety  of 
humor  and  his  consummate  art  in  the  progression  of  the  novel  from  one  apparent 
climax  to  another."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

Pretty  Michal. 

A  Romance  of  Hungary.  By  MAURUS  JOKAI,  author 
of  "Black  Diamonds,"  "The  Green  Book,"  "Midst 
the  Wild  Carpathians,"  etc.  Authorized  translation 
by  R.  Nisbet  Bain.  Illustrated  with  a  photogravure 
frontispiece  of  the  great  Magyar  writer. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  325  pages  $1.50 

at  once  a  spirited  tale  of  '  border  chivalry,'  a  charming  love  story  full  of 
oetry,  and  a  graphic  picture  of  life  in  a  countr 
new  to  English  readers."  —  Literary  World,  London. 


genuine  poetry,  and  a  graphic  picture  of  life  in  a  country  and  at  a  period  both  equally 
to  English 


In  Kings'  Houses. 

A  Romance  of  the    Reign   of   Queen  Anne.     By 
JULIA  C.  R.  DORR,  author  of  "  A  Cathedral  Pilgrim- 
age," etc.     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
i  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.5° 

"  We  close  the  book  with  a  wish  that  the  author  may  write  more  romance  of  the 
history  of  England  which  she  knows  so  well."  —  Bookman,  New  York. 

"  A  fine  strong  story  which  is  a  relief  to  come  upon.  Related  with  charming 
simple  art."  —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 


LIST    OF    FICTION. 


Manders. 

A  Tale  of  Paris.  By  ELWYN  BARRON.  Illustrated. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  350  pages  .  .  $1.50 

"  Bright  descriptions  of  student  life  in  Paris,  sympathetic  views  of  human  frailty, 
and  a  dash  of  dramatic  force,  combine  to  form  an  attractive  story.  The  book  contains 
some  very  strong  scenes,  plenty  of  life  and  color,  and  a  pleasant  tinge  of  humor. 
...  It  has  grip,  picturesqueness,  and  vivacity."  —  The  Speaker  (London). 

vhich  pathos  and  humor  both  play  their  parts. 

itin  are  distinguished  for  their  freshness  and 


"  A  study  of  deep  human  interest,  in  whi 
The  descriptions  of  life  in  the  Quartier  Latii 
liveliness."  —  St.  James  Gazette  {London}. 


"  A  romance  sweet  as  violets."  —  Town  Topics  (New  York). 

In  Old  New  York.  (/«  Press.) 

A    Romance.  By  WILSON  BARRETT,  author  of  "  The 
Sign  of  the  Cross,"  etc.,  and  ELWYN  BARRON,  author 
of  "  Manders."     Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.    I2mo,  cloth,  350  pages      .         .         $1.50 

A  historical  romance  of  great  vigor  and  interest.  The  collabora- 
tion of  Mr.  Barrett  with  Mr.  Barren,  the  successful  author  of  "  Man- 
ders," is  a  sufficient  guarantee  of  the  production  of  a  volume  of 
fiction  which  will  take  very  high  rank. 

Omar  the  Tentmaker. 

A  Romance  of  Old  Persia.     By  NATHAN  HASKELL 
DOLE.     Illustrated  by  F.  T.  Merrill. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          .          .          .         .         $1.50 

"  The  story  itself  is  beautiful  and  it  is  beautifully  written.  It  possesses  the  true 
spirit  of  romance,  and  is  almost  poetical  in  form.  The  author  has  undoubtedly  been 
inspired  by  his  admiration  for  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam  to  write  this  story  of 
which  Omar  is  the  hero." — Troy  Times. 

"  Mr.  Dole  has  built  a  delightful  romance." —  Chicago  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  strong  and  vividly  written  story,  full  of  the  life  and  spirit  of  romance."  — 
New  Orleans  Picayune. 

The  Golden  Dog. 

A  Romance  of  Quebec.    By  WILLIAM  KIRBY.   New 
authorized  edition.     Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....          $1.25 

"A  powerful  romance  of  love,  intrigue,  and  adventure  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV.  and 
Mme.  de  Pompadour,  when  the  French  colonies  were  making  their  great  struggle  to 
retain  for  an  ungrateful  court  the  fairest  jewels  in  the  colonial  diadem  of  France."  — 
New  York  Herald. 


L.   C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 


The  Making  of  a  Saint. 

By  W.  SOMERSET  MAUGHAM.      Illustrated  by  Gil- 
bert James. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.50 


"  An  exceedingly  strong  story  of  original  motive  and  design.  .  .  .  The  scenes  art- 
imbued  with  a  spirit  of  frankness  .  .  .  and  in  addition  there  is  a  strong  dramatic 
flavor."  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

"  A  sprightly  tale  abounding  in  adventures,  and  redolent  of  the  spirit  of  mediseval 
Italy."  —  Brooklyn  Times. 

Friendship  and  Folly. 

A    novel.      By    MARIA    LOUISE    POOL,    author    of 
"Dally,"  "A  Redbridge  Neighborhood,"  "In  a  Dike 
Shanty,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth         ....          $1.25 

"  The  author  handles  her  elements  with  skilful  fingers  —  fingers  that  feel  their  way 
most  truthfully  among  the  actual  emotions  and  occurrences  of  nineteenth  century 
romance.  Hers  is  a  frank,  sensitive  touch,  and  the  result  is  both  complete  and  full  of 
interest."  —  Boston  Ideas. 

"The  story  will  rank  with  the  best  previous  work  of  this  author."  —  Indianapolis 
News. 

The  Knight  of  King's  Guard. 

A  Romance  of  the  Days  of  the  Black  Prince.    By 
EWAN  MARTIN.     Illustrated  by  Gilbert  James, 
i  vol.,  lib.   I2mo,  cloth,   300  pages      .          .         $1.50 

An  exceedingly  well  written  romance,  dealing  with  the  romantic 
period  chronicled  so  admirably  by  Froissart.  The  scene  is  laid  at  a 
border  castle  between  England  and  Scotland,  the  city  of  London,  and 
on  the  French  battle-fields  of  Cressy  and  Poitiers.  Edward  the  Third, 
Queen  Philippa,  the  Black  Prince,  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  are  all  his- 
torical characters,  accurate  reproductions  of  which  give  life  and  vitality 
to  the  romance.  The  character  of  the  hero  is  especially  well  drawn. 

The  Rejuvenation  of  fliss  Semaphore. 

A  farcical  novel.     By  HAL  GODFREY.     Illustrated 
by  Etheldred  B.  Barry, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.25 

"  A  fanciful,  laughable  tale  of  two  maiden  sisters  of  uncertain  age  who  are  induced, 
.  by  their  natural  longing  for  a  return  to  youth  and  its  blessings,  to  pay  a  large  sum  for 
a  mystical  water  which  pos-esses  the  value  of  setting  backwards  the  hands  of  time. 
No  more  delightfully  fresh  and  original  book  has  appeared  since  '  Vice  Versa ' 
charmed  an  amused  world.  It  is  well  written,  drawn  to  the  life,  and  full  of  the  mos* 
enjoyable  humor."  —  Boston  Beacon. 


LIST    OF    FICTION. 


Cross  Trails. 

By  VICTOR  WAITE.  Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....  $1.50 

"  A  Spanish-American  novel  of  unusual  interest,  a  brilliant,  dashing,  and  stirring 
story,  teeming  with  humanity  and  life.  Mr.  Waite  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the 
strength  with  which  he  has  drawn  his  characters."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  Every  page  is  enthralling."  —  A  cademy. 

"  Full  of  strength  and  reality."  —  A  then&um. 

"  The  book  is  exceedingly  powerful."  —  Glasgow  Herald. 


The  Paths  of  the  Prudent. 

By  J.  S.  FLETCHER,  author  of  "When  Charles  I. 
was  King,"  "  Mistress  Spitfire,"  etc.     Illustrated  by 
J.  W.  Kennedy, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  300  pages         .         .          $1.50 

"  The  story  has  a  curious  fascination  for  the  reader,  and  the  theme  and  characters 
are  handled  with  rare  ability."  —  Scotsman. 

"Dorinthia  is  charming.  The  story  is  told  with  great  humor."  —  Pall  Mall 
Gazette. 

"  An  excellently  well  told  story,  and  the  reader's  interest  is  perfectly  sustained  to 
the  very  end."  —  Punch. 

Bijli  the  Dancer. 

By  JAMES  BLYTHE  PATTON.     Illustrated  by  Horace 
Van  Rinth. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  Modern  India.  .  .  .  The  fortunes  of  the  heroine,  an  Indian  Nautch 
girl,  are  told  with  a  vigor,  pathos,  and  a  wealth  of  poetic  sympathy  that  makes  the  book 
admirable  from  first  to  last."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  A  remarkable  book."  —  Bookman. 

"  Powerful  and  fascinating."  —  Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"  A  vivid  picture  of  Indian  life."  —  Academy  (London). 

Drives  and  Puts. 

A  Book  of  Golf   Stories.     By  WALTER  CAMP  and 
LILIAN   BROOKS.     Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  decorative          .         .         $1.25 

Considering  the  great  and  growing  interest  in  golf,  —  perhaps  the 
king  of  sports, —  this  volume,  written  by  Walter  Camp,  the  eminer.1 
authority  on  sports,  in  collaboration  with  Lilian  Brooks,  the  well- 
known  writer  of  short  stories,  is  sure  to  be  a  success. 


8  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

"  To  Arms ! " 

Being  Some  Passages  from  the  Early  Life  of  Allan 
Oliphant,   Chirurgeon,  Written  by  Himself,  and  now 
Set  Forth  for  the  First  Time.  By  ANDREW  BALFOUR. 
Illustrated  by  F.  W.  Glover, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.50 

"  A  tale  of '  Bonnie  Tweedside,'  and  St.  Dynans  and  Auld  Reekie,  —  a  fair  picture 
of  the  country  under  misrule  and  usurpation  and  all  kinds  of  vicissitudes.  Allan  Oli- 
phant is  a  great  hero."  —  Chicago  Times-Herald. 

"  A  recital  of  thrilling  interest,  told  with  unflagging  vigor."  —  Globe. 

"  An  unusually  excellent  example  of  a  semi-historic  romance."  —  World. 


The  River  of  Pearls;  OR,  THE  RED  SPIDER. 

A  Chinese    Romance.      By   RENE    DE    PONT-JEST, 
with    sixty    illustrations    from    original    drawings    by 
Felix  Re"gamey. 
i   vol.,  lib.    I2mo,  cloth,  300  pages     .         .         $1.50 

Close  acquaintance  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Chinese 
has  enabled  the  author  to  write  a  story  which  is  instructive  as  well  as 
interesting.  The  book,  as  a  whole,  shows  the  writer  to  be  possessed 
of  a  strong  descriptive  faculty,  as  well  as  keen  insight  into  the  charac- 
ters of  the  people  of  whom  he  is  writing.  The  plot  is  cleverly  con- 
ceived and  well  worked  out,  and  the  story  abounds  with  incidents  of 
the  most  exciting  and  sensational  character.  Enjoyment  of  its  perusal 
is  increased  by  the  powerful  illustrations  of  Felix  Regamey. 

The  book  may  be  read  with  profit  by  any  one  who  wishes  to  real- 
ize the  actual  condition  of  native  life  in  China. 


Frivolities. 

Especially  Addressed  to  Those  who  are  Tired  of 
being  Serious.     By  RICHARD  MARSH,  author  of  "  Tom 
Ossington's  Ghost,"  etc. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  340  pages         .         .         $1.50 

A  dozen  stories  in  an  entirely  new  vein  for  Mr.  Marsh.  The  humor 
is  irresistible,  and  carries  the  reader  on  breathlessly  from  one  laugh  to 
another.  The  style,  though  appealing  to  a  totally  different  side  of 
complex  human  nature,  is  as  strong  and  effective  as  the  author's 
intense  and  dramatic  work  in  "  Tom  Ossington's  Ghost." 


LIST    OF   FICTION. 


Via  Lucis. 

By  KASSANDRA   VIVARIA.     With    portrait    of    the 
author. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.50 

"  '  Via  Lucis  'is  — we  say  it  unhesitatingly  —  a  striking  and  interesting  production." 
—  London  A  thenieum. 

"  Without  doubt  the  most  notable  novel  of  the  summer  is  this  strong  story  of  Ital- 
ian life,  so  full  of  local  color  one  can  almost  see  the  cool,  shaded  patios  and  the  flame 
of  the  pomegranate  blossom,  and  smell  the  perfume  of  the  grapes  growing  on  the  hill- 
sides. It  is  a  story  of  deep  and  passionate  heart  interests,  of  fierce  loves  and  fiercer 
hates,  of  undisciplined  natures  that  work  out  their  own  bitter  destiny  of  woe.  There 
has  hardly  been  a  finer  piece  of  portraiture  than  that  of  the  child  Arduina,  —  the  child 
of  a  sickly  and  unloved  mother  and  a  cruel  and  vindictive  father,  —  a  morbid,  queer, 
lonely  little  creature,  who  is  left  to  grow  up  without  love  or  training  of  any  kind."  —  New 
Orleans  Picayune. 


Lally  of  the  Brigade. 

A  Romance  of  the  Irish  Brigade  in  France  during 
the  Time  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.    By  L.  MCMANUS, 
author  of  "  The  Silk  of  the  Kine,"  "  The  Red  Star," 
etc.     Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.   I2mo,  cloth,  250  pages     .         .         $1.25 

The  scene  of  this  romance  is  partly  at  the  siege  of  Crimona  (held 

Kthe  troops  of  Louis  XIV.)  by  the  Austrian  forces  under  Prince 
igene.  During  the  siege  the  famous  Irish  Brigade  renders  valiant 
service,  and  the  hero  —  a  dashing  young  Irishman  —  is  in  the  thick 
of  the  fighting.  He  is  also  able  to  give  efficient  service  in  unravelling 
a  political  intrigue,  in  which  the  love  affairs  of  the  hero  and  the 
heroine  are  interwoven. 


Sons  of  Adversity. 

A  Romance  of  Queen   Elizabeth's  Time.     By   L. 
COPE  CORNFORD,   author  of  "  Captain  Jacobus,"  etc, 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....          $1.25 

"  A  tale  of  adventure  on  land  and  sea  at  the  time  when  Protestant  England  and 
Catholic  Spain  were  struggling  for  naval  supremacy.  Spanish  conspiracies  against 
the  peace  of  good  Queen  Bess,  a  vivid  description  of  the  raise  of  the  Spanish  siege  of 
Leyden  by  the  combined  Dutch  and  English  forces,  sea  fights,  the  recovery  of  stolen 
treasure,  are  all  skilfully  woven  elements  in  a  plot  of  unusual  strength."  —  Ptiisburg 
Bulletin. 


IO  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 

The  Archbishop's  Unguarded  Moment. 

By  OSCAR  FAY  ADAMS.     Illustrated. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  decorative          .         .         $1.25 

Mr.  Adams  is  well  known  as  a  writer  of  short  stories.  As  the  title 
indicates,  these  stories  deal  with  dignitaries  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 
The  mingled  pathos  and  humor,  which  Mr.  Adams  has  handled  so 
admirably  in  describing  his  characters,  make  a  book  of  more  thai 
average  interest  for  the  reader  of  fiction. 


Captain  Pracasse. 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Gautier.    By  ELLEN 
MURRAY  BEAM.     Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.25 

"  The  story  is  one  of  the  best  in  romantic  fiction,  for  upon  it  Gautitr  lavished  his 
rare  kmowledge  of  the  twelfth  century."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  One  of  those  rare  stories  in  which  vitality  is  abundant."  —  New  York  Herald. 


The  Count  of  Nideck. 

From  the  French  of  Erckmann-Chatrian,  translated 
and  adapted  by  RALPH  BROWNING  FISKE.    Illustrated 
by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.25 

" '  The  Count  of  Nideck,'  adapted  from  the  French  of  Erckmann  -  Chatrian  by 
Ralph  Browning  Fiske,  is  a  most  interesting  tale,  simply  told,  and  moving  with  direct 
force  to  the  end  in  view."  —  Minneapolis  Times. 

"  Rapid  in  movement,  it  abounds  in  dramatic  incident,  furnishes  graphic  descrip- 
tions of  the  locality  and  is  enlivened  with  a  very  pretty  love  story."  —  Troy  Budget. 


M.uriella;   OR,   LE   SELVE. 

By  OUIDA.     Illustrated  by  M.  B.  Prendergast. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.25 

"     "  Ouida's  literary  style  is  almost  perfect  in  '  Muriella.' "  —  Chicago  Times-Herald. 
" '  Muriella '  is  an  admirable  example  of  the  author's  best  work."  —  Brooklyn 

"  It  dwells  in  the  memory,  and  bears  the  dramatic  force,  tragic  interest,  and  skilful- 
neM  of  treatment  that  mark  the  work  of  Ouidawhenat  her  best."  —  Pittsburg  Bulletin. 


LIST    OF    FICTION.  II 


Bobbie  McDuff. 

By  CLINTON  Ross,  author  of  "The  Scarlet  Coat," 
"  Zuleika,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 
i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth       ....         $1.00 

" '  Bobbie  McDuff,'  by  Clinton  Ross,  is  a  healthy  romance,  tersely  and  vigorously 
told."  —Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

"  It  is  full  of  mystery  and  as  fascinating  as  a  fairy  tale."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  well-written  story,  full  of  surprises  and  abounding  in  vivid  interest."  —  The 
Congregationalist,  Boston. 

The  Shadow  of  a  Crime. 

A  Cumbrian  Romance.    By  HALL  CAINE,  author  of 
"The  Manxman,"  "The  Deemster,"  etc.,  with  twelve 
full-page  illustrations   in  half-tone,  from  drawings  by 
M.  B.  Prendergast. 
i  vol.,  cloth,  illustrated,  gilt  top   .         .         .         $1.25 


The  Works  of  Gabriel  d'  Annunzio. 

The  Triumph  of  Death. 
The   Intruder. 

The  Haidens  of  the  Rocks. 
The  Child  of  Pleasure. 

Each,  i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth        .         .         .         $1.50 

"  The  writer  of  the  greatest  promise  to-day  in  Italy,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
unique  figures  in  contemporary  literature,  is  Gabriel  d'Annunzio,  the  poet-novelist."  — 
The  Bookman. 

"  This  book  is  realistic.  Some  say  that  it  is  brutally  so.  But  the  realism  is  that  of 
Flaubert  and  not  of  Zola.  There  is  no  plain  speaking  for  the  sake  of  plain  speaking. 
Every  detail  is  justified  in  the  fact  that  it  illuminates  either  the  motives  or  the  actions 
of  the  man  and  woman  who  here  str.nd  revealed.  It  is  deadly  true.  The  author  holds 
the  mirror  up  to  nature,  and  the  reader,  as  he  sees  his  own  experiences  duplicated  in 
passage  after  passage,  has  something  of  the  same  sensation  as  all  of  us  know  on  the 
first  reading  of  George  Meredith's  '  Egoist.'  Reading  these  pages  is  like  being  out  in 
the  country  on  a  dark  night  in  a  storm.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  lightning  comes  and  every 
detail  of  your  surroundings  is  revealed."  —  Review  of  the  Triumph  of  Death,  in  the 
New  York  Evening  Sun. 


12  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY S 

Mademoiselle  de  Berny. 

A  Story  of  Valley  Forge.  By  PAULINE  BRADFORD 
MACKIE.  With  five  full-page  photogravures  from 
drawings  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Printed    on    deckle-edged    paper,    with    gilt    top,   and 
bound  in  cloth.      272  pages          .         .         .          $1.50 

"  The  charm  of  '  Mademoiselle  de  Berny '  lies  in  its  singular  sweetness."  — 
Boston  Herald. 

"  One  of  the  very  few  choice  American  historical  stories." —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Real  romance  .  .  .  admirably  written."  —  Washington  Post. 

"  A  stirring  romance,  full  of  life  and  action  from  start  to  finish."  —  Toledo  Daily 
Blade. 

"  Of  the  many  romances  in  which  Washington  is  made  to  figure,  this  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating,  one  of  the  best."  —  Boston  Courier. 

Ye  Lyttle  Salem  Maide. 

A  Story  of  Witchcraft.  By  PAULINE  BRADFORD 
MACKIE,  with  four  full-page  photogravures  from  draw- 
ings by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

Printed    on    deckle-edged   paper,    with    gilt    top,    and 
bound  in  cloth.      321  pages          .         .         .          $1.50 

A  tale  of  the  days  of  the  reign  of  superstition  in  New  England, 
and  of  a  brave  "  lyttle  maide,"  of  Salem  Town,  whose  faith  and  hope 
and  unyielding  adherence  to  her  word  of  honor  form  the  basis  of  a 
most  attractive  story.  Several  historical  characters  are  introduced, 
including  the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  and  Governor  and  Lady  Phipps, 
and  a  very  convincing  picture  is  drawn  of  Puritan  life  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century.  An  especial  interest  is  added  to  the 
book  by  the  illustrations,  reproduced  by  the  photogravure  process 
from  originals  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

In  Quiana  Wilds. 

A  Study  of  Two  Women.  By  JAMES  RODWAY, 
author  of  "  In  the  Guiana  Forest,"  etc.  Illustrated, 
i  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover,  250 
pages  ........  $1.25 

"  In  Guiana  Wilds  "  may  be  described  as  an  ethnological  romance. 
A  typical  young  Scotchman  becomes,  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 
decivilized,  and  mates  with  a  native  woman. 

It  is  a  psychological  study  of  great  power  and  abiiity. 


LIST   OF    FICTION.  13 


Vivian  of  Virginia. 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Our  First  Rebellion,  by  John 
Vivian,  Esq.,  of  Middle  Plantation,  Virginia.  By  HUL- 
BERT  FULLER.  With  ten  full-page  illustrations  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill. 

i    vol.,    library     12 mo,    cloth,    gilt    top,    deckle-edge 
paper  .......         $1.50 

"  A  stirring  and  accurate  account  of  the  famous  Bacon  rebellion."  —  Los  A  ngeles 
Sunday  Times. 

"  We  shall  have  to  search  far  to  find  a  better  colonial  story  than  this."  —  Denver 
Republican. 

"  A  well-conceived,  well-plotted  romance,  full  of  life  and  adventure." — Chicago 
Inter-Ocean. 

"  A  story  abounding  in  exciting  incidents  and  well-told  conversations."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  Mr.  Fuller  will  find  a  large  circle  of  readers  for  his  romance  who  will  not  be  dis- 
appointed in  their  pleasant  expectations."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Instead  of  using  history  as  a  background  for  the  exploits  of  the  hero,  the  author 
used  the  hero  to  bring  out  history  and  the  interesting  events  of  those  early  days  in 
Virginia.  The  author  has  preserved  the  language  and  customs  of  the  times  admir- 
ably." —  Philadelphia  Telegram. 


The  Gray  House  of  the  Quarries. 

By  MARY  HARRIOTT  NORRIS.     With  a  frontispiece 
etching  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett. 
i  vol.,  8vo,  cloth,  500  pages          .         .         .         $1.50 

"  The  peculiar  genre,  for  which,  in  a  literary  sense,  all  must  acknowledge  obliga- 
tion to  the  author  of  a  new  type,  is  the  Dutch  -  American  species.  The  church-goings, 
the  courtings,  the  pleasures  and  sorrows  of  a  primitive  people,  their  lives  and  deaths, 
weddings,  suicides,  births  and  burials,  are  Rembrandt  and  Rubens  pictures  on  a  fresh 
canvas."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"The  fine  ideal  of  womanhood  in  a  person  never  once  physically  described  will 
gratify  the  highest  tone  of  the  period,  and  is  an  ennobling  conception."  —  Time  and 
The  Hour,  Boston. 

A   Hypocritical   Romance  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

By  CAROLINE  TICKNOR.     Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Ken- 
nedy, 
i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth        ....         $1.00 

Miss  Ticknor,  well  known  as  one  of  the  most  promising  of  the 
younger  school  of  American  writers,  has  never  done  better  work  than 
in  the  majority  of  these  clever  stories,  written  in  a  delightful  comedy 
vein, 


14  L-    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

A  Man -at- Arms. 

A  Romance  of  the  days  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti, 
the  Great  Viper.  By  CLINTON  SCOLLARD,  author  of 
"  Skenandoa,"  etc.  With  six  full -page  illustrations 
and  title-page  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 
i  vol.,  library  I2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  deckle-edge 
paper $1.50 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Italy,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  The  hero,  Luigi  della  Verria,  unable  to  bear 
the  restrictions  of  home  or  to  reconcile  himself  to  the  profession  of 
law,  as  desired  by  his  father,  leaves  his  family  and,  as  the  result  of 
chance,  becomes  a  man-at-arms  in  the  service  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Vis- 
conti, the  cunning  and  unscrupulous  Lord  of  Pavia,  known  as  the 
Great  Viper.  Thenceforward  the  vicissitudes  and  adventures,  both 
in  love  and  war,  of  Della  Verria,  are  told  in  a  way  to  incite  the  in- 
terest to  the  highest  point ;  and  a  strong  picture  is  drawn  of  Italian 
life  at  this  period,  with  its  petty  vendettas,  family  broils,  and  the  un- 
principled methods  employed  by  the  heads  of  noble  families  to  gain 
their  personal  ends. 

An  individual  value  is  added  to  the  book  by  the  illustrations  and 
title-page,  drawn  by  Mr.  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

"  The  style  is  admirable,  simple,  direct,  fluent,  and  sometimes  eloquent ;  and  the 
Story  moves  with  rapidity  from  start  to  finish."  —  The  Bookman. 
"  A  good  story."  —  N.  Y.  Commercial  A  dvertiser. 
It  is  a  triumph  in  style."—  Utica  Herald. 


Cyrano  de  Bergerac. 

•  A  Heroic  Comedy  from  the  French  of  Edward  Ros- 
stand,  as  accepted  and  played  by  Richard  Mansfield. 
Translated  by  HOWARD  THAYER  KINGSBURY. 
i  vol.,  cloth   decorative,  with  a  photogravure  frontis- 
piece  .........         $1-00 

i  vol.,  paper  boards      .....  -5° 

The  immediate  and  prolonged  success  of  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac," in 
Paris,  has  been  paralleled  by  Mr.  Mansfield's  success  with  an  English 
version,  dating  from  its  first  night  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York, 
October  3,  1898. 

As  a  literary  work,  the  original  form  of  Rostand  took  high  rank ; 
and  the  preference  of  Mr.  Mansfield  for  Mr.  Kingsbury's  new  trans- 
lation implies  its  superior  merit. 


LIST    OF    FICTION.  15 


A  flad  Madonna  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

By  L.  CLARKSON  WHITELOCK.    With  eight  half-tone 
illustrations. 
i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth        ....         $1.00 

A  half  dozen  remarkable  psychological  stories,  delicate  in  color  and 
conception.  Each  of  the  six  has  a  touch  of  the  supernatural,  a  quick 
suggestion,  a  vivid  intensity,  and  a  dreamy  realism  that  is  matchless 
in  its  forceful  execution. 


On  the  Point. 

A  Summer  Idyl.     By  NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE,  au- 
thor of  "Not    Angels    Quite,"  with    dainty  half-tone 
illustrations  as  chapter  headings. 
i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth         .         .         .         .         $1.00 

,  A  bright  and  clever  story  of  a  summer  on  the  coast  of  Maine,  fresh, 
breezy,  and  readable  from  the  first  to  the  last  page.  The  narrative 
describes  the  summer  outing  of  a  Mr.  Merrithew  and  his  family.  The 
characters  are  all  honest,  pleasant  people,  whom  we  are  glad  to  know. 
We  part  from  them  with  the  same  regret  with  which  we  leave  a  con- 
genial party  of  friends. 


A     000028318     4 


